A morning in July, without telling anyone, Riding his donkey Rocinante

A morning in July, without telling anyone, Riding his donkey Rocinante, he went flying, escaping from his villa, With the fake cloth armor on and the spear in hand, The field called him, and his dream began to walk.
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A morning in July
,
without telling anyone
,
Riding his donkey Rocinante
,
he went flying
,
escaping from his villa
,
With the fake cloth armor on and the spear in hand
,
The field called him
,
and his dream began to walk
.
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