Behold, I come galloping in vain to reason I have fallen on my horse
with taut strings like in a theater with
colander over the old skull
do not know why or how, and I do not know each other.
Of course the world does not recognize
home does not respond to my calls
perhaps no longer in the highlands
suspect that the tip is far away ...
you give me a pen and paper, spaces and gestures,
want to sing again, and give the sword
to divide the righteous from petty,
just a bit 'of bread and a little' wine ,
much enough for me to start again!
I re-found a new empire here
on these roads without value,
I see whirling and circular
rings of Saturn in the making ...
Don Quixote is coming ... And soon you can browse my new poem eagerly underground. Make reservations , brave knights and princesses sweet.
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