Brothers whose youth they would tear in shreds
Do not look for truth among their simpering words
Among paternalist yes-men and backstairs betrayals
Do not look for beauty in the restless mask
Soaking in perfume their hideous sores
Nor for love in those exposed thighs
Coining adventure in pick-up bars
Truth Beauty Love
Is the workman smashing the deadly composure of their drawing room
Is the woman who walks by, sensuous and solemn
The kiss that crosses the frontiers of calculation
And the flowers between couples and the child in the arms its loves
Is everything they have lost brothers
And what together we will enroll down the roads of the world