Glorious suffering,
Born among the mysterious poor,
Shredding darkness with tiny
Bits of light that illuminate minutes,
The crests of moments, colorful,
Spreading across a grateful soul,
A manifestation of grace in poverty,
Streets of the nocturnal
that disperse into industrial days
Where they sweat the blood
And honor their young,
The poor have secret places
Gathering in the heart,
A rhythmic harmony in the simplicity,
They hear the birds,
Embrace the wind
And kiss the sorrows goodnight.
The poor are the strongest of humanity.
To suffer is to grow.