Estados Unidos Mexicanos Poem by Paolo Giuseppe Mazzarello

In the country the sun heated our cotton shirts
And we felt children wrapped in hot clothes.
From the cow's breast the milk sparted in the bowl.
The wind raised the tuff dust which stuck to our sweaty skin.
US know the great passages but Mexico knows the revolution.
Movement means to go on, revolution means to turn upside down.
Many little land-owners can make progress together;
Many poor campesinos can regress, there are Villa, Zapata, Madero.
Mexican moms put the ladies' underwear back into the wardrobes.
Dads covered ways through empty fields.
Collectivization is the fate of who owns nothing.
A white broad-brummed veil covers the Lesbia's head,
Her face keeps still: I don't know if it's hope or wait.
Mexican people cross the wall and go in the United States of America.