I can not do it now,
but I have all the way,
rot in one day barely survived
between jabs of bile.
I belong to the elegance provincial
the bourgeoisie of Europe,
for me it's just training.
My brother left for Chicago,
stowaway on a train and looking back
that his glorious life
of atrocious crimes between looks and glasses in the bar.
I recognize in him
On the day of my death and his freedom
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