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Like a distraught pilgrim
I'm going to do the Camino de Santiago
With a friend who, like me
Was a rebellious seminarian
Yesterday a believer, today a hardened atheist.
We no longer believe in nonsense
Nor in the charlatanry of tricksters
We only believe in our body
Which is our only Beloved
And in his flower of Love
With his two hanging balls.
We have agreed to walk
To Santiago de Compostela
From the Hermitage of San Amaro, in Burgos.
We go with only what we have on; without an Euro
And a bag with a change of clothes just in case
Along with some sandals for saints.
“The rebellious priests are already leaving for Santiago.
The La Milanera neighborhood is now staying
Happy and pleased not to see for a while
These “faggot priests””
Some San Amaro songs sing.
We took the Via de Bayona
To go to Compostela
Until we reached La Puebla de Arganzón
Where we linked up with the French road.
Tired, we arrived at Monasterio de Rodilla
And, on top of its rocks
Full of ruins of a castle
From the first period of the Reconquista
We sat looking at the Church of Santa Marina
Which is said to have been an old Monastery
Delighting our eyes all over the valley of La Bureba
Just like our carnal flower
Raised high up
He cutting his cane, and I mine.
A shepherdess who saw us
Driving her fifty sheep and four goats
Went crying on the way to Oña
Her dog barking at us.
Sleepless, at dawn
Looking towards Atapuerca
We decided to go back home
Because we were missing
The mortar and pestle.

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