The Sunday market in small Colombian towns are all a carnival multicolor: After attending Mass at seven parishioners gather in the main square to overflowing joy to share with neighbors; bought and sold everything, eating, drinking, chatting with friends, you take pictures, sing and even dance to a good murga peasant.
THE PLAZA
From my window you see the vast square,
the atrium, the rail
and passersby.
market kiosks,
the pots of flowers,
the girlfriend of a soldier
and colored cotton.
baskets with vegetables,
the fowl, ripe apples
and rich treats.
stew dishes,
crates of beer, punch
with cake and strawberry ice cream.
bottles chicha,
panela cheese,
potatoes with sausage
alfandoque and stiff.
cattle at the fair,
the astute trader,
the fool in misery
and the lady in mourning.
The drunk,
the speaker off, the guámbitos
asleep and the market closed.
The sun behind the hill,
the priest in his cassock,
ends on Sunday and close the window.
Good night, neighbor! We looked
morning.
Rahulig/010
DRA
Image: Villa de Leyva - Boyacá Colombia
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