Letanía

Everything changes, nothing changes, look at the train, look at the track. If you think about it and observe well, you'll know philosophy. A thousand speeches, few resources, it's the daily bread. Only America, who would've thought, wants to be alone and doesn't change. Monarchy, oligarchy, dictatorship, tough face. Phrygian cap without prestige and then came the miracle. A war that spoils it and a leader who adopted a son: a young man with a lot of drive who was missing a screw. There are fascists and papists, and a handful of long lists, sharecroppers, mercenaries, and people who pray rosaries. There are Carlists and Marxists, and also some optimists, police officers and spies, and people without scruples. And 'non-intervention' and 'those from the Royal Pardon'. And the race continues, lengthening and shortening, of corsairs and falsifiers, and visits to other neighborhoods. Those who cross the border making the panther's leap, well-lined pockets, shooting 'shots' from behind. The sacristy rats, considered pious people, and, you see, who would've thought it!, even my aunt. And the litany continues of love, death, and days.