Lágrima

Lágrima

A nomad with a region of land,
Other than the guitar, he has nothing at hand,
He never had an audience,
So nobody recognizes him, hence.

He was always in a state of solitude,
Only the birds gave him some gratitude.
One day, as he was making his masterpiece,
Suddenly, he heard the fall of his keys.

It fell! With a big bang!
And a bird stole his treasured masterpiece,
Mad with anger, he chased the bird like a boomerang,
He failed, leaving his mind anger creased!

The bird traveled to an unknown land, with the piece at hand,
Until it reached England.
It dropped the piece on the Buckingham palace,
On the queen's chalice.

A savant glanced at it,
He thought,"This was going to be a big hit."
The savant looked for its composer out of his wit,
The candle for Lágrima was lit.

The savant found the legendary nomad,
He was taken to England,
The nomad starting to look like a knight in crimson clad,
The nomad, on reaching, felt as if he played into death's hand.

He hated England to its core,
He hated the people as they seemed to bore,
He hated the cold,
He felt like this was hell's hold.

He had so much wrath and sadness,
That he couldn't harness.
He wrote a piece called "Lágrima,
By Francisco Tárrega."
-By Varun Dass

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