Andrew's love

From the rising to the west,
daily, Andrés,
I was crossing his bicycle,
the nerves of your city,
curves and against curves,
slopes up,
slopes down,
with the sun in front,
with the rain on the back,
with revolutions on one side,
with conservatives of the other.
He on his noble bicycle,
overflowed sewers,
site states,
coma states,
the devastated purgatory,
of the slums,
the purgatory rented,
of the high neighborhoods.
The city without mascara,
shows him his scars,
He opens his heart,
without hiding their miseries,
and Andrés looks at her in silence,
with just a tear,
that goes down his face,
and floods the main square,
he holds out his hands,
he dedicates his life,
and whatever happens,
in the place that is,
let destiny take you,
he swears eternal love,
because he knows that she,
your city, your land,
Even if it hurts,
and can not with their whims,
it's what they're made of,
his breath, his veins and his skin.