Pialando Miseria

Early I saddled the little bay
And placed on the counter
The key to the turnstile
A short and simple loop
The yellow sheepdog
Observing my task
As if knowing the duty
That for pleasure it provokes
With the halter in its mouth
Inviting me to ride

I went back to get the knife
The cigarettes and the hat
In passing, I released the night guard
Who neighed the herd
A gray mist
Entered to wet the gear
And in the rising steam
Old God, showed his tricks
Embroidering with cobwebs
The wires of the wire fence

I opened the first gate
Without getting off the horse
And I started counting the steers
With rural knowledge
I already noticed that in the first one
One was missing
I counted them again looking
With doubt in my brow
When something strange in the distance
Made me gallop out

With a demanded tug
I arrived surrounded by chimangos
The poncho of a Polanco
Hung on the wire
I dismounted somewhat distressed
Observing the details
Praying that the suspicion I had
Does not fail me
For some marks that were there
Heading towards the street

At the end of my endeavor
About a hundred meters away was the cart
Of a dilapidated wagon
That I know well its owner
When hunger kills sleep
Reason slowly diminishes
And there is no honesty that sleeps
If there in the shack
Ten mouths asking for bread
And a very sick woman

Guiding reason
And putting the leather on the saddle
I left the little field
To fulfill the mission
To inform the boss
“That the black man in a lasso
To cure his wound
Unintentionally broke his neck
On the spot he skinned him
And gave him to the dogs”