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

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