De: Antologia compungidos II

A Smexegrex 

PRIMERO

‘

2022

In this city, everything is simple
There are no tall buildings or zenithal,
only a despicable and cold wind.                                            So  shap, they can poke from afar                                      To hear praise of ignorance,
For I am as much an outcast as you.

You won’t find much here.
The streets are sad, absurd,
As much or more than the poor shacks,
Where dreams are lost on dilatory mud

They talk about the empty
He’$ like a great marble home
Where the hall, welcome with herbs
As if they were arijunas.

But I, who lived in a tin house;
Where the fairy obeys the asphalt
Breaking with strangeness the peace,
That treads histrionicist his flag
Whose vanity is sidewalk and waste,
Then I can sketch a smile.
In the rich building’s where all is calm,

Perhaps, if you dared
They’d kiss your feet with flattery,
And you’d feel him in your heart
Even without deserving the slightest touch

For her wealthy will awaken
like lasciviousness in other corners
They will praise the foreign skin
There will be no fire and no storm
Before the dove of the north

Every scratch in my reflection
Can touch you, cry the chain
It’s blood in my time
There will be destiny

To Norilsk, Ru