Hello friends from Literatos This is a rhymed poem, in hendecasyllabic verse, composed of six eight-line stanzas, all with 16 syllables. It's inspired by the legend of Florentino, who sang with the devil. Only this time, Florentino also invoked other kinds of "elements," belonging to legends of our Venezuelan folklore, to help him scare away the usurpers of his lands. I consider this an opportune moment to publish it, taking advantage of the fact that my music has been behaving so well. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it.

Fuente

Florentino, La Sayona, and El Silbón gathered together,
I don't know the purpose of such conversations
I only know that in that place, Juan Ramón's house,
they once clashed, and all hell broke loose
A loud bleating could be heard, it's the goat's
What's going on, gentlemen? You won't let me rest!
Is there a wake? Confess, I'm getting suspicious
Either tell me what's happening, or you'll have to leave!

In the enchanted cave, all the witches were,
practicing black magic, among potions and spells.
They summoned demons, with their dolls and needles.
And then came Francisca Duarte, the dark-skinned girl with curls.
Helping the one at court, the spirit of Taguapire,
releasing tormented souls, taking advantage of the party.
Majuza from Yaracuy, the one they call Catire,
the spirit of dry water, and the rebel Juan Cruzao.

The woman, eyes of fire, turned her gaze to the sky
against the usurpers of foreign lands and valleys
Mountains, seas, savannas, much inconsolable pain
this is what they are accused of, it is a cry in our streets
They have tortured innocents, forcing them to be
second-class citizens, poor without having been born
Begging and without rags for the bread they should eat,
this is not deserved by a people who are blessed.

They begin deliberating, ghosts with the Sayona
They prepare nets and fishing rods, Death has appeared.
The headless specter, in agreement with the Weeping Woman
Florentino, with his song, answered them all.
It won't be easy, but here no one is safe,
the songs of Cantaclaro, with the saints, defeat them
"Leave him who is still alone!", their mallow flower has arrived
let's rake the scythe, their time is running out.

Silbón and the lonely soul were already prepared.
Here are the peasants, united with Florentino.
Let's go find the saint, we have them ambushed.
Saint José Gregorio Hernández, grant them their destiny.
Take them from our house, take them to the mud.
They don't deserve your miracles, forgive me for saying it.
On the darkest nights, we will emerge from the bicharango,
far from our lands, no one will be able to stop us.

Flee to the very depths of hell, a century
We want no trace left, you are nothing but a plague
Well, enough of torture, evil, and lust
I dream of waking up on nights of a full moon
And once again seeing the radiant Caribbean sun shining
Walking through my spaces, finding my essence
Embracing my loved ones, feeling the one who welcomes me
Freeing ourselves from that yoke, and achieving independence.