Los Toros
Los de Marras
The Bulls
The circus begins now,
The swordsman comes out,
In colorful attire,
And a civil guard hat.
He doesn't know what awaits him,
The bull in the pen,
When he enters the arena,
He will suffer until death.
The impatient people,
Morbid and frenzied,
Want to see blood run,
Want it to suffer until death.
Because in the end,
They dare to say,
The national celebration,
Has always been like this.
Agony and suffering,
Without resentment or feeling,
And the bull dies for money,
And there are those who pay to see it.
With a red cape,
They catch his attention,
And they stick banderillas,
And that's not the worst.
They say he doesn't suffer,
That he doesn't feel pain,
And they stick a sword,
Straight to the heart.
End of the bullfight,
Applause, ovation,
The white handkerchiefs,
Demand compensation.
Through the main gate,
The bullfighter exits,
While in the arena,
Another bull has died.
Agony and suffering,
Without resentment or feeling,
And the bull dies for money,
And there are those who pay to see it.
