THE NECTAR OF ÁPAM

Polychromatic beauty—
with your oil-painted murals of primitive art,
your garlands of crepe-paper—:
you are like a fiery banderilla,
a taunt from the throat
of the people,
igniting a Sunday,
your week of tedium,
to avenge, through the sleepwalking policeman in the corner,
nearly four centuries of sorrow and silence...