O merry, merry, merry, like only dogs know how to be happy and nothing more, with an absolute shameless nature.

Megaphone in which the wind passes singing.

About me, nothing worse they will tell you, my love, than what I told you

Loving is a journey with water and with stars, with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour: loving is a clash of lightning-bolts and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey.

Without doubt I praise the wild excellence.

Como se reparten el sol en el naranjo las naranjas? How do the oranges divide up sunlight in the orange tree?

My duty moves along with my song: I am I am not: that is my destiny. I exist not if I do not attend to the pain of those who suffer: they are my pains. For I cannot be without existing for all, for all who are silent and oppressed, I come from the people and I sing for them: my poetry is song and punnishment.