Translated by Donald D. Walsh

    Furrowed motherland， I swear that in your ashes

    you will be born like a flower of eternal water

    I swear that from your mouth of thirst will ccome to the air

    the petals of bread， the spilt

    inaugurated flower. Cursed，

    cursed， cursed be those who with an ax and serpent

    came to your earthly arena， cursed those

    who waited for this day to open the door

    of the dwelling to the moor and the bandit：

    What have you achieved？ Bring， bring the lamp，

    see the soaked earth， see the blackened little bone

    eaten by the flames， the garment

    of murdered Spain.