Flora Y Ceferino

Go Flora, saddle the donkey
and go to the farmhouse
Tell the doctor that the cough is bothering me
and that I have chills
I'm afraid of dying
and leaving you, Flora, in loneliness
so alone with two boys
and a small farm that yields nothing
so alone with two boys
and a small farm that yields nothing

Flora left quickly
and was back in a blink
she was tired and sad
when she began to speak to her husband:

Ceferino, poor fate
the doctor wasn't there
today is Sunday and there's veal
at the 'El Lodazal' estate
I passed by the pharmacy
and the pharmacist didn't say anything
just that in his pharmacy
there's no medicine without money
just that in his pharmacy
there's no medicine without money

The atmosphere was sweaty
and simply moving
Ceferino, trembling, with a deep voice
told Flora about his love:

Go, black woman, for your life
return to the farmhouse
go to the church and find the priest
because I want to confess
take Luis Venancio with you
and leave Reinaldo, who is the eldest,
I want him to promise me
that in the face of offense, he'll be a man
that even if his hands are rough
he never hardens his heart

The painful journey
was made in a flash
Summer of fevers
Not only does the tree dry up,
the man dries up too
(between chipote and demagogy
that sucks blood and honey)
summer of fever
the woman carries it on her skin
A road where one dies
without being born again.
Summer of fever... harsh... harsh
until the downpour

Father Gonzaga
parish priest of San Juan de Tapirama
enters the house, sweaty
and gives the usual greeting:
What am I good for, my child?
No, no, don't kiss my hand
because that instead of faith,
is a bad habit
and instead of making God greater
it diminishes Him

Ceferino's whistling voice
became smaller
due to the Bolivarian cough
As if all the pains of the homeland
were being driven into his bony chest

Father, I'll be frank with you
I didn't think you would come
today the Governor is coming
and there'll be veal at his estate
and surely he invited you to eat with them
Although I don't know who they invite
if it's the priest or the church
Anoint me with oil, Father,
the purest oil of the Lord
Don't impose the Our Father on me
because the little voice I have
I keep to ask you
something that burns inside me
deeper than the cough:

Why do the temple merchants
increase more than Jesus' loaves?
What does 'blessed' mean
when I already know what 'poor' means?
What does 'blessed' mean...
With an anger unworthy of a servant of God,
I ask Jesus all the time
if Don Olivares isn't rather his hunter
And no matter how much I think about it
I can never explain
why in the Sacred Scriptures
only gentlemen of high property commune.
I don't believe that the sin in lifting
is so great
but in believing in false testimonies.

Forgive me, Father, for believing
that the most beautiful night
is in Flora's eyes
and every night, after the third Hail Mary
her female scent enchants me
and I find God in her womb.

Even to the small room came
the whimpering of Reinaldo and Luis Venancio
and a little smell of coffee
that settled in the jug
Flora's beautiful eyes
reddened by smoke and tears
scanned the sky, praying, praying.

Our Father who art in heaven,
don't let him die
he's the water from my lemon tree
and the seed of my land
Holy immaculate Mother
perhaps as a woman you understand me
that the pains of the world
are greater in women
than the pains of the world...

I can't see the colors anymore
it smells like wet earth
give me your little hands, Flora
I'm cold in my blood
give me a little sweet water
from your red mouth.
And you forgive me, Father
but God doesn't kill me
it's hunger that kills me
but God doesn't kill me...

Father Gonzaga felt on his face
the other truth of the Gospel.
Not the one sanctified asleep
in the Old Testament
but the one loving of God
among men
fighting side by side with his people.

I couldn't answer you,
nor forgive you either
there's no sin in your questions
made by all of us
I want to ask with you
scream from the root
why do the peasants of my country
die so early?
why do the peasants of my country
die so early?