| If you see a mound of foam
|
| It's my verse what you see
|
| My verse is a mountain and it is
|
| a fan of feathers
|
| I come from everywhere
|
| And everywhere I go
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| Art I am among the arts
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| And in the mountains mount I am
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| My verse pleases the brave
|
| My short and sincere verse
|
| It is of the vigor of steel
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| With which the sword melts
|
| With which the sword melts
|
| Pour, heart, your sorrow
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| Where you can't see
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| For arrogance and for not being
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| Reason for another's grief
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| My verse is like a dagger
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| That by the fist made flower
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| My verse is a supplier
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| What gives a coral water
|
| My verse is light green
|
| And of a lit carmine
|
| My verse is a wounded deer
|
| What are you looking for in the shelter mount
|
| Look at me, mother, and for your love do not cry
|
| If a slave of my age and my doctrines
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| Your martyr heart filled with thorns
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| Think that they are born among thorns, flowers
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| I sleep on my rock bed
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| My sweet and deep sleep
|
| A bee grazes my mouth
|
| And the world grows in my body
|
| I have seen the wounded eagle
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| Fly to the serene blue
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| And die in his lair
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| The poison viper
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| Hidden in my bravo chest
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| The pity that hurts me
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| The son of a slave people
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| Live for him, shut up and die
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| Live for him, shut up and die
|
| I know of deep regret
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| The slavery of men
|
| It is the great sorrow of the world
|
| There are mountains and you have to climb
|
| The high mountains after
|
| We will see, soul, who is
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| What has made me die
|
| My verse pleases the brave
|
| My short and sincere verse
|
| It is of the vigor of steel
|
| With which the sword melts
|
| With which the sword melts |