Pan

He knows he has a long time ahead
The fixed sentence will make him sound
So, between tough, submissive, and bitter
The light of dawn will visit him
I wish someone could listen to him
In that eloquence that sorrows bring
And see if it's human to condemn him
For having stolen a piece of bread

His children don't cry just to cry
Nor ask for treats
Not toys, nor sweets, sir!
His children are dying of cold
And cry hungry for bread
The grandmother complains of pain
A painful reproach that offends his manhood
Also his wife, thin and weak, in a glance
All the tragedy has made him understand

Work? Where? Extend the hand
Asking for alms from passersby, why?
Receiving the insult of: Excuse me, brother
He who is strong and has courage and pride
Everyone fell asleep, the crowbar in hand
If Jesus doesn't help, let Satan help
A glass, some shouts, running, help
A man crying and a piece of bread