Emigrant
Hello old friend, poems were forgotten.
I still remember those shared dreams.
I do not know if I cry, or just stay, without a loved one.
Missing you is every time, sun travel.
God has experiences for you, in a world for living it.
Together with yours, so you have decided.
You left as an emigrant, on a bus with wobbly eyes
With verses and couplets, and a lost journey
With a coffee later, after the border,
But no matter how expensive it was.
It is the best smell that our land gives.
Venezuela, although few want it.
It is the one that made us known abroad.
For being labor, without reservation.
Vegueros we are without title, of academia.
But we set the standards with excellence.
When the harp sounds, that's llanera music.
The only one that recognizes us, inside and outside of it.
Do not do lyric, I speak of my land Venezuela.
The one that stops, males and gives it to the world so that it feels who represents it.
Emigrant I have nothing more to tell.
In these lines, which I do not know if they serve for a cock.
But for me, they are feelings converted into poems.
God bless you, in other people's lands, and do not forget that Venezuela is worth it.
Politics broke those schemes.
That's why I do not like that we talk about her.
It's time to succeed, well put barriers.
Although the crisis does not help, we will always show that we are friendly brothers and that Venezuela lives.
Rattia Ivan
A Poet Loko
Copyright Reserved in Venezuela