Mother, I Bow To The Gold (Quevedo) Poem by Alexandro Johns

Always gold is the north on earth
It is a beautiful singing of sirens dressed in yellow
The misery is viewed from a distant balcony
When the poors are walking far away

The pleasure is a shelter
The purchase of peace came to the market
The cross in the shade of a half moon
Greet with fervour to the golden sparkle
The party remains open in its outward combat

My other self reluctantly is calling you
Because everything is bearable if I get a pay
The nostalgia is my crying above lost treasures.