Hello, worn-out boot and the wind,
Wind, unshaven, tousling the kids,
Splashes of asphalt, pimples, and engines,
Sky like the dust of a meteor’s dreaming!
Scraps of morning slumbers and struggles,
Rooster-red blood of the first battles,
Laughter in pockets, torn and tattered,
Crumbs of the universe, in palm-lines scattered!
Onward! Magicians! Where are you going?
Where will the era catch you, unknowing?
Words are stubborn, but words on credit,
Clay of sounds, yet trembling, unsteady!
Pulse not of freedom, but growing inside!
Pulse of the untamed galloping wide,
Pulse of the heavens, swelling the tide!