De cruzada

CRUSADE:

I see quincha and clay in a village in São Martin
glimpse a piece of me lost in another era
it was a home, now it waits poetizing agonies
for in the museum of these days, being a shack is not enough
tumbles the quincha, breaks the clay like a terminal cry
from the traditional shelter, a trench in the face of war
today a countenance that closes after being and leaving
there is a destiny to follow...we all return to the earth

I, who come from a crusade wearing out Nazarenes
endure the same pains of this collapsing ranch
I have absences in my gaze and a soul in the shadow of verse
I feel more than the universe when I start to sing
I feel more than the universe when I start to sing

these scenes that open my consciousness to the past
stop the world on the other side in the longing of those who leave
tea will be more sincere without remnants as a flag
the soul looks at the gate when God makes the separation
I wave the handkerchief and head where the extinct treads
herding troops, rounding up chimeras
till I find my era without absences in my gaze
happily strumming a guitar in a vast sky without shacks