Poema do Cu

Ass,
Round gate
Surrounded by strands of hair
Where the little stream flows
From the herds coming from the gut
To keep your folds
You don’t need much luxury
Just clean it with rags
In the old gaucho style

I salute you, wild Indian ass
Sore from so much shit
Why do you show courage
When the crap comes charging
And if it’s a bit hard
Take your time, don’t rush
To avoid getting hurt

Old miserable ass
Always face down
Being a tough Indian ass
One that shits in logs
And never leaves scraps
If you carry some shit
Just clean it with rags
Or even use a corn cob

Martyr of the body
Unwanted and disrespected
Most of the time shit-covered
And rusty at the hole
Your fate is a crude thing
Because while life goes on
The mouth drinks whiskey
And you’re always gathering flies..