CIVIC LAMENT

You who are crazy, broken, weak, dead...
You who drink and get dirty are shaky.
You who dress in rags over rags...
You who have dogs licking your wounds.
You who light the fire of conscience in me.
You who awaken me to this civic lament.
Let me give you this bread.
It's from the corn on our ground,
if they didn't give us wheat.
Let me wash you with our water
and kiss your hands.
You are the pain of the pain in me that hurts the most.
Funeral and popular song.
Placenta of our new Republic.
Sputum in human form.
How will we restore your dignity?
How many votes will we have to vote,
so that you don't need
remind us, the people that we are
and how little we always were?
Let me give you this shirt.
It was my mother who sewed it.
The green, yellow, blue and white embroidery.
It is the work of the woman whom I love.
And the stars that shine in it?...
They are all children dancing this civil ballet.
Go now and plant yourself on the first corner.
Whistle the national anthem and hold out your hat, to reap the applause. Then swallow them.
All at once. It doesn't matter the flavor.
You will be the first beggar to feed
of the illusion of a good people,
that even in misery salutes and applauds
our symbols: “flag, anthem and pain”.