Isabel G. de Diego’ photo
MY GRANDCHILDREN PLAY AND DREAM 
ABOUT DINOSAURS

What joy! What happiness!
While my grandchildren play 
And dream about dinosaurs
I, at their innocent age
Played with El Jabato comics
Roberto Alcázar y Pedrín
Tarzan of the Apes
King Kong and Beauty
And Warlike Azañas 

Remembering that dwarf General
Who rode a horse
Followed by Moors riding donkeys
Whom the entire Church flattered
And walking him under a canopy
For the benefits received
Being a total serial killer
From this country called “my beloved Spain”
As Antonio Molina
The man from Malaga called him
Andalusian copla and flamenco singer.

The entire Church
For these graces received from the Dictator
Had an extreme love for children
Like that of donkeys or donkeys
Stop with its mouths.
Love that was allowed by children
Because they were indoctrinated by fascist mysticism
That swarmed through Iberia
And all of Europe.

Now, my grandchildren play 
And dream about Dinosaurs
Of strange names that they know by heart
With innocent contentment
Because they see themselves converted 
Into protectors of these
Pitting them against each other
In amazing fights
In dinosaur operations
Similar to those announced and seen sets
On the benches of the Congress of Deputies
That amaze everywhere
Thank God and his asses.

When I tell them to contradict them
And make them angry:

That Triceratops is called Jester
That Velociraptor is called Cambriles
That Diplodocus is called Capitol
That Brachiosaurus is called Pig
That Stegosauria is called Balam
That Iguanodon is called Borak
That Archeopteryx is called Spain

They get very angry, and tell me:
-Bobo (for grandfather), you are a fool.
You know nothing
Wanting to hit me hard in the belly
With the jaw of an Iguanodon
What his mother saves me from by telling them:
-Bad very bad. No, children, no.

You don't do that to grandpa.
They run away laughing out loud.
While I feel like I'm privileged
Having the glory of enjoying with them
Which are so charming.
The most beautiful in Iberia!

Because, at my age, thanks to them
They have made me a warrior with their Dinosaurs
And, thanks to them
 I am the King.
Because being it
So depends on the children.

-Grandpa, there are dinosaurs that talk.
-Yes my children, of course.
I look at them and think:
-The souls of children pass to the dinosaurs
While the souls of men
Become to madmen or cafres
With feelings of serial killers.

Furthermore, I tell them:
-Do you children know something?
-What thing? Bobo.
-That dinosaur milk is very medicinal.

-Isn't that right, mom?
-No, my children, no.
Your grandfather is a fool.
-Yes mom.
-The fool is not a dinosaur
He is a big gorilla.

-Daniel de Culla