this time we publish it CORRECTED AND INCREASED with UNPUBLISHED country stories taken from Volume 1 that was never published due to the loss of the Manuscript. Books can be ordered at @ Xlibris.com 1-888-795-4274.
jrb Erfec at Aiken SC
*
"The house must not rain
where this book is
Martín Fierro said of course,
but I tell my race
that Valdez's little book
even if it is worth less
for sounding too haughty
instead of plugging holes
will give them for another house "
(but not here on Earth) ".
BEGINNING OF PAINS FOR THE LANDSCAPE
I
The penalties like black mules
they always go ahead of the patacho
Even the fleas have left my mat
and I don't believe in man or his bulls
since the pain broke my chunk
by cutting its rope from my life.
I liked hot chocolate
but I no longer have a female to agile it,
for table I have a log and food
the skins that sadness has left
more, I eat well if the food has a lot of chili
because with its itch it makes it taste cooler
when my tongue pierces with pain.
there are things that seem like chucha
but they have a bushel of grief
Well, when love does the dishes
he does it with heavy and sharp stones
that even the heart makes wrinkles
breaking the bag from his soul.
The task will always be easier
if the tar "tin" in your pockets
that without her
in the rough meeting
it will be more cool to make a mute sing
or an Atheist to make him believe in Christ.
That is why the simpleton who does not take offense is good
giving and receiving without losing the mode
because the good churrusca finally understands
that sometimes you have to get muddy ...
coyón can not be the one that his indina luck
push the fight being peje
against a well stocky shark
looking straight into the eyes of death
when he gives without complaining
of its essence the last roar.
*
In life I knew the wonders
of an awakening sleeping in a hammock
accompanied by my dog Tarabillo
and hearing the bellowing of my cow
looking for her calf in the shallows,
few things were more beautiful
to see my Ishchoca bringing the bowl
in one hand, full of beans
and in the other a tol overflowing with tortillas ...
*
I lost all that, there is nothing left
because one afternoon the master who had
the house burned me
being inside what I wanted the most
watching helplessly as the stove scorched her.
My Guarizama made a cross out of rage
while a voice inside me
take revenge against the cruel rich man
that with the fury of Luzbél
the most beautiful dreams shocked me.
*
30 years I drank in the dungeon
something old and Totoreco coming out,
I only have her shawl left of my female
and it is my my faithful blanket when the cold of the night
with the wind it grows bringing the echo
that has been rolling down the river
bringing me the barking as a reproach
of my dog Tarabillo
and the restless moo of my cow
that keeps looking in the shoal
to his black bull .....
II
GRIP FROM THE TAIL TO HOPE
*
I grabbed Hope by the tail
And so I managed to light new coals
in the old and broken chimney
of my heart and although little bonanza,
some eggs hatched me out of love
that although no one believes it
they delivered me from death,
but to my bad luck
these my chingonas Trovas
they never loosened their burdens
against the carcamal pattern
and they got more bitter
that the leaves of the nopal ...
In his murky rhyme and dundo
they didn't sleep long nights
being mules with heavy loads
of hurtful metallized hooves
I hid myself between my dreams
of rickety efforts
that relieved me a little
and I didn't ask for his coconut water
nor to the rich man his compassion
Well, the Paisano with Honor
always wins the fray
and if he has a bag
he puts his heart into it.
Misery is an skeleton
that you will not be able to achieve:
always has to show you a bare bone
so in the sad way
this results:
by getting stuck in your troat
you will be thrown away
and even if you pray to Jesus
take it that way for granted
that you will end up aflu.
But even if it is for relief
I want to tell the world
that this helped me a lot
I learn without retreats
that for such a deep cancer
and for all hard pain
there is no tasty medicine
only those that are bitter
they dry up your slaughter.
I was one of those old colts
that in barbed wire
he almost lost his skin
for following after the mares ...
today I know they are slobbery
but in my old times
passion did not give me truces
And aura I say sharecropper
that the woman is a black widow
although the cravings cheer
he will jart us in the courtship ...
I did not like the bandage
more to deny it now
as would everything maje:
I always took his toll
who boasted of aviao
but i shared my loot
with some heartbroken
that according to what I was looked
It was a poor country that me ...
I never found a dial
all the peace I wanted
and still in death throes
I'm alive and I'm still breathing
by the lips of my wound.
My nanny always said:
Hold on, that's life,
it is not a good donkey who kicks
of the fucking skirmishes
shuns with cowardice
that the one who persists in the fight
sometimes find tar
And with patience the pig
at last a serote will swallow
The Chinese say sarcastically:
"everything that moves is food"
I will not deny them
but it is good here to follow
two rules that are the norm
if you don't want to die:
the poison that destroys
first you have to delete
mostly if is a venemous serpent
being a tasty meal
a quarter of the shola
you have to cut
then a piece of tail
And so you can swallow it.
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