The conquistadors could never survive,
Because we are all just men
Making love to anonymous women,
Selling Christmas trees;
And I hoped to look into your eyes, but you
Were with your better men,
Or married with a hypnotic badge,
Fully into exegesis and not in need of
A stranger’s bouquets,
So I kept doing all that I could do,
Getting drunk and masturbating like the sun
With worse and worse eye sight
Trying to leap lightly forward, but never
Escaping the fantasies of his yesterdays.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem