Dreams

A young emigrant with a dream in a backpack,

looking for a job, with his Mac,

While eating his snack,

Pushed out by his own nation,

You do not want to experience fear or hunger in it,

You do not want to endure humiliation on your land,

Or no more mothers asking for money.

You made a decision to look for a country,

In which the future will blossom like a rose in paradise,

Where in politics he plays in open cards

And where they will quickly appreciate how much you are worth.

Looking at your luggage full of optimism,

My heart is filled with excess pessimism,

Because you do not know what's coming tomorrow I

And what is the exploitation of a poor man.

You think that your treasure is a diploma in your pocket,

Which will turn your misery into wealth.

But I kindly anticipate you, my countryman,

To hang your sweet dreams on the hook.