Como El Viento de Poniente

As a child, I didn't like books or cassocks
if going out in procession,
I was as disobedient as the west wind,
rebellious and playful,

instead of looking at the sky
I started measuring the ground I had to walk on,
and I never followed the flock,
because neither the shepherd nor the master were trustworthy,

like the one who is silent, agrees,
and although ignorance is deaf,
I was able to raise my voice,
louder than the barking of the pampered dogs
and the voice of the shepherd.

I started running races
through shortcuts and narrow paths for me,
and my neighbors said
I was on the wrong path, away from the fold,

I was always that black sheep
that knew how to dodge the stones thrown at it,
and as the years go by
I move further away from the flock because I don't know where it's going.