Los Hijos Bastardos Del Viento Refulgen A Lo Largo Del Mar. Don't F.U.C.K Me

Están las ardillas y las muchachas y las amapolas. Y la leña en alto invocando otro sol negro. Y el río lento y pardo. Y los camaradas caídos en Yardley Gobion. Ya nos acercamos otra vez a la Anglogalician que aún duele y enfrentamos los discursos y los silencios con gallardía reverencial. Todo sigue hacia el fin de la Causa que es otro de los nombres del Principio de la misma. Todo es ceniza que cae a la memoria mientras vamos encendiendo un crisol tibio.

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