De la lucha

From the Struggle

(Milonga)

Don't push, companion,
'cause damn, it's not like I'm
with pain in the saddlebag
running away from the brawl.
Slower, partner,
because there are stones on the road,
damn cunning townsman!
when it seems least
that I intend some offal
of those that have been offered to him.

Consider me eliminated
from the heap of suitors
who have sharpened their teeth
to grab onto the roasted.
I don't need a lawyer
or crumbs from the budget,
because I don't walk
from the bridle
of any high manatee,
I'm not fed mate
by any pampered little black boy.

He who is a calf and doesn't moo
walks scared and crouched,
for him are not the yellow ones
from the state's mares,
for him is the tough herd
and the Remington and the spear
and the bullet that reaches him
so that some like you
come to tell him later,
stories of slaughtered.

But I am more stubborn
than a rooster eating guts,
when the blunderbuss jams
it still remains loaded.
Slower, brother-in-law,
why do I need that bone,
you can go share the cheese
with others who eat it,
I in the lowlands and hills,
I always rode well.