No es tamal pero está mala.

Que viva Colombia!
Que viva el vueltiao
Que viva el tamal tolimense
Que viva mi machete
Que viva la ruana
Que viva la cumbia
Que viva el guarapo
Que viva Peñaranda
Que viva la sabana, el monte, el llano y el mar
Que viva mi abuelita ******
Que viva el M.A.N., mi papá

The deep forest calls out,
In the tenderness of the leaves
What an illusion is involved.

The murmur of dried leaves
Blow in which tune,
Hijal, tamal, in the shade of shawl
Called away in a remote place.

Curved narrow paths
Merged into an unknown border,
Green forest surrounded by shade
Prate by prying.

The dew of the grass wraps around the feet
Still walking randomly,
The rainbow came and filled my heart
I want to return to her embrace.

I don't write afternoon poems for a long time
But that crow came right to the cornice
Who says you are ugly black
You are the original color of creation
Like the great age
Aditya's expression every morning in that color book
There is so much light in the world.
You know in the end everything is deep black
Just like you
One day all the colors of the world are washed away
Just wakes up with the pain of losing
Black-black, blue absorbed in pain!
So I understand your sad Crow’s pain
Cruel chest-cracked screams
So understand and accept that you are the burden of Habisanna
I understand so I find you in the morning and evening
I find you in the intense burning of noon
I find you on the way to the pilgrimage.
You are deceived by the cuckoo of spring
The cunning fox deceives you
How colorful is the meaning of your ka-ka language
Only Bhatai knows how much caution
There is no other animal like you.
You are as you were.
Friend, you know pilgrimage -Salile Abgahan
Kalonman has become Tamal for you
Darkness has died for you
Mudibo eyes one day in your color
And friend bird, you can't be fooled!