blood on the arena
Sun and liberty are the spices of Ribatejo
Might and temperament are reared in its fields
Roving the marshlands, away from man, close to the
sky
Calmly drinking on the jade banks of the Tagus
There are no strains to bind him
Just taurine courage anticipating challenge
His strength attracts solely the strong
Together they play a drama ever repeated but never
rehearsed
In the arena the plot is unknown only to the protagonist
Advancing with the honesty of Iberian race
Tormented by darts, applauded by the crowd
A dance to the sound of trumpets
Black and red in a trance
Finally his blood will return to the soil
M. Daedalus |