Argentina, I have heard about you…
You were of days gone old,
Sultry looks, pouty lips, a sculptured face,
Your sensuousness redeemed a nation’s creed.
Argentina, the crops once grew wild,
Where the wars ravaged the gardens that thrived.
I often thought about the way,
the Americas shook with rage,
At the wickedness that besieged the devout.
Everywhere there were the tireless boredom of cold,
Did you see that,
Men were christened with blood swords,
Women, endowed with beauty bore crowns.
You remain steeped in thought,
Thinking, mastering plans anew,
I know Argentina, you, the simplest yet astounding,
You, the gentlest, yet – you will what is to come.
Argentina, I have heard of you,
Your steps are scattered like seed.
(I wrote this poem sometime back, I hope you enjoy it)
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