El Carnicero de Gilessueño

The Saint wrote with wounds, with wounds.
Far from the tortured flesh, she cried her premonitory vision.
I’m dreaming that my death is coming,
I’m dreaming that I see my fate, the neighbors come out to greet me
I hug them and they beat so strong.
They hang garlands of light in the night
and throw a party all down the street,
I say goodbye as death takes me
they hug me and wish me good luck.
Smell of musk, the young man licks the skull's Christ,
bad dream, green eyes, Massacre of San Andrés de Giles.
He sat at the door of the house
dreaming the dream that my soul fades away,
the crowns roll slowly through the air
the flowers that pass shine whiter.
The parade goes silent in the night
only gazes floating in the street,
I say goodbye as death takes me
they wrap me up and wish me good luck.