A CRY FOR FREEDOM © 2008
The nostalgia for the little taverns,
The pork sandwiches and the reds,
The stories of the matches
The fields of riddles.
In an unknown result
The tombola decided the winner,
And not always the most convinced
Received the winner's trophy.
The championship always repeated
And the trips through the alleys to the taverns
Accompanied the glow seen
On the faces of the eternal little ones.
The men who always dreamt
Of a positive result knew
That after the matches began
The falls were suffered, but lived.
They were falls that did not defeat,
But shaped the soul and the desire,
For even in defeat they felt
The joy of seeing the game unfold.
Amidst the laughter, the drink, and the bread,
Life flowed like a challenge,