Let there pass
over the mind
the waters of
four oceans, the airs
of four skies!
Return hollow-bellied,
keen-eyed, hard!
A simple scar or two.
Little girls will come
bringing you
roses for your button-hole.
LIBERTAD! IGUALDAD! FRATERNIDAD!
Brother!
—if we were rich
we’d stick our chests out
and hold our heads high!
It is dreams that have destroyed us.
There is no more pride
in horses or in rein holding.
We sit hunched together brooding
our fate.
Well—
all things turn bitter in the end
whether you choose the right or
the left way
and—
dreams are not a bad thing.