The rats rush to the sea
Before the ship collapses.
But regrettably I believe
That neither the piper of Hamlin
Could banish this sadness,
So deep,
Like a stampede,
Invaded with autonomy
My villages and castles,
My palaces and monuments,
My cathedrals and sanctuaries,
My skies and my hells,
Destroying everything,
As a horde of termites.
Because the old sadness
That lives with me
In the contiguous door
To my pain,
Poisons in a continuous way
My invaluable illusion,
Fair from the moment
In that you decided to leave,
Leaving the invasion
Of sad thin cows
That devours my fat cows
Without any commiseration.
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