in the afternoon of bulls...

Silence, that bastard I wait for every night

above all, that so badly born, symbolic and absent,

goes out for chicuelinas in the middle of the cloak

before the rumor that silences everything.

It will be that the muffler hides with caution,

to the mother the calm, besides, I do not accept dissimulations,

no matter how stubbornly the crutch insists

With reckless, courageous and stoic passes,

Finally, it seems to me that she still does not give up, stubborn, free and daring, the moon

with its full body light, there it comes to meet me,

there, next to the silence, as much as the love that I most

I want, in the afternoon of bulls, of this uncertain, treacherous ending.

Who I am?https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrea_Salda%C3%B1a