I see the beggars,

Where is justice?

Peons pushed aside,

Thrown away,

Their sin?

They were born

In a hovel,

Not a palace.

They are nothing.

I am nothing.


What can I do?

I cannot speak,

I have no voice. 

I have no power, no wealth, 

Only desire,

Dear God,

What can I do?


I turn and behold a youth,

Impetuous, fiery, strong.

His eyes see the ranchero,

The peon, the mozo, the vaquero,

Trampled by the heel of a dictator.

His heart burns with passion,

His soul flames with indignation,

His desire, my desire are one. 


Glory? Honor? Fame?


My youth dons a secret,

Becomes an enigma,

A puzzle for tyrants

To solve, to cipher,

To curse. 


I am silent,

But in my heart I sing

I am squire

To my knight of justice.
























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