Pablo Neruda
Curse
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 come 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