It is good politics, it's tradition,
the morning of that day, the first of the year again,
When the mist is still in barrels,
Take again , good resolutions.
We dream angel, giving good words
Convinced that our wishes will all be obliged
Promising so many things that can disappointments
Do What happened, eliminating the halo.
And what can we think of these important people
Who we bombard vows
charge of hypocrisy or sincerity is found disguised
In the exemplary image of our president.
No, really, although it is us,
Ancestral, redundant, I think this year
I will let fall, I will remain silent.
At these mea culpa, I will chorus!
Anxiety is palpable as the times ahead,
In continuation of the year two thousand ten,
Who was, far from it, a year of bliss,
May attract our flowers overgrown with brambles.
So how to find in this illusory world, where selfishness
smothers solidarity actions, beliefs
Where are the men, opponents
This simple light called hope?
Yet I long to give you all,
For intimate parents or those strangers who read
by chance, these lines incongruous
The hint of a smile on all your little faces.
Also, for the moment is copying the monks,
who seek peace and serenity, That I
wish you all, success and health
order it is good, this year 2011!
Email (1)
But regarding the good intentions,
As I will not keep them anyway,
Being too old to follow the lessons,
Do not expect me that I change opinions.
Na!
Email (2)
And then, with "eleven", what can we rhyme?
Because even with the football, we're desperate!
Aside "bronze" or "bloke", the choice is narrowed,
So this little "monk" is not so bad found!
No?
January 2011
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