Howzit ché Juan? i would say, hereweare, coffee? fo'sure, gin? lets make dem two and not about compañeros compañeras of revolutions no of ugly tree that fell in the midst of its no-memory smashin' the oblivion no. We would talk of the smell of coffea in the morning the toasts the sipping of the Máte gourd hand companion laughter little girl steps like the newspaper man from the possible to the probable like seas night beaches the juices of the heart dream the Sirious sun that golden marvels like kettles Mátes Yerba herbs howzit ché Juan? hereweare, just poetrying dawning the sunsets under the clover's shade tangoing cumbiaing the intimate smell of the Red Queen.
Read Augusto's original en Español
Read Doug's "translation" into English