Like a wild bull
Toro toro toro!
Your hair shone in the sun,
Flor flora florecimiento
En tus ojos libertad sin fin
Olive eyes and skin,
y en mis sueños eres una arboleda
where the sun shimmers through golden hair.
Is she the bull or matador?
Grabbing the hilt of life like a sword
her red cape flashes, flying victoriously
She is the bull and matador
The crowd cheers “Olé!”
Why does the crowd cheer?
Enraptured in the moment and all that lies ahead
with swift movements and narrow escapes
both creatures sweating, panting short breaths
they turn to face as the final charge begins
Estocada! she penetrates the dense muscular frame
the bull bursts forth, thrusts, and tears away
all but your solar plexus
before breathing his last
and collapsing on the clay
the matador clutching her waist
right hand clenched on the reddened soil
stretching across her foe she whispers
“olé olé olé…”
to rest in the peace of overcoming;
en la primavera de su vida
en la paz de la muerte