ROAD TAR
It is three in the afternoon, August;
The little boy cycles in the empty dusty streets
As the town hall clock announces the time,
So hot it refuses to play the same note.
So many times I told you not to assume the reason,
But you could not imagine the little boy and his bicycle
In the burning sun of the summer in Gascueña.
The memories are white, and red, and green,
And blue, intense blue, blue of horror,
Remind me I am lost in the streets
Of this big city full of hopes and obstacles,
Of reasons to do one thing or another,
Or maybe something else will do.
Decisions, decisions, I'll have one with pepperoni.
Fernando Jarabo y Lorenzo