With my friend Jesus
Autumn and winter afternoons
Above all, for all the Saints
When the bells of the Cathedral
And all the churches in the City
They ring the bells with their pricks
We were happy for a walk
Following the smell of chestnuts
As the butterfly follows the flower
Or the green fly the animal and human poop
And, turning a corner
We were meeting a chestnut tree
What the mother superior looked like
From an old convent
On the Paseo del Espolón, for example
At the Arch of San Juan
In the Plaza del Cid, in Burgos
Where we saw that all her chestnuts
Sizzled on the spit
Hoping that, when buying a cornet
Some of them
All dressed in dark, tell us:
“There are crazy chestnuts stuffed with shit”
What was like saying:
“There’s a hen for the chicken”
With a very poor light
Lit in its booth
That looked like a funeral mass candle.
Happy both of us in the streets
From La Puebla or from San Juan
The Paseo del Espolón or Trinas street
With our cones made of newspaper
And twelve chestnuts each
We were eating the crazy chestnuts
Until we get into any bar
Of those who had fame
That we would find some other chestnut tree
That she would give us hers
Getting into the service
And, on the sink, offering it to us
Cutting her hair with our teeth
Or in other case
We sitting in a chair
They would give us a glorious handjob
For the modest price of a cubata.
My friend Jesus and I
We always went with the illusion
To meet the Consuelo (Comfort) sisters
In the Baúl de la Piquer, pub and bar
Or in El Patillas especially
Beer, peanut and guitar music bar
Where they made us run
Rubbing our dick
Staring at the stale, grease-filled billboards
That covered the walls
Singing until we ejaculate:
Here’s the straw coming.”