Humanity, what’s in your name
That you play such a one-sided game
That lets you, quite voluntary, choose
To watch cattle killed just to amuse.
Your brethren in Spain treat as norm
The study of Bull, and its form.
To know it by name and by weight
Then pick a particular date
To arrow the flesh in its neck
And barb it with poles for the heck,
While prancing some ritual dance
In filigreed matador pants.
Imagine this new scene in play,
Let’s opt of a “Man of the Day”
And as he runs into the ring
On the signal to start, from the King
He’ll froth at the mouth in his fear
Knowing well that the Bull gets HIS EAR.
Aire sur L’Ardour, France 1992