Once upon a time, there was a poor, little old nice church its meals were never something fine but tithes, exemptions, and headlines.
No land enough to flock its herd, but mansions, temples in large estates, with golden bathrooms, floors, and gates, and pretty gutters all gold made.
No place it had to preach out loud, but radio stations all around, and tv channel marathons, demanding money all day long.
No voice or vote the poor church had and ostracized it lived so sad, our State remained its only friend, The gift of perks, a right to defend.
Its poor ideas no one defends, but senators and congressmen, councilors, mayors everywhere, shouting out loud its voice they were.
Harassed it was, but, do you know? The ugly heathens did it not, but politicians; Pharisees! who traded votes for every wish.
Like in the old days it would walk, so poor outside, with glutton core, if it were not for its aircraft, fine cars and trucks, vessels, and yachts.
May God have mercy on our souls, our luck He changes and lets us all living as poor as this poor church, while we're alive and not in our tombs.
* Adaptation of "The Poor Old Woman" by Rafael Pombo, referring to the request of a Pastor and Senator to the National Government. Diego Vargas Aguilar.
Translated by Manuel Adolfo Espejo Mojica