Classic Poem

Seated above the dead
who are silent these two months
I kiss empty shoes
and grasp furiously
the heart's hand
and of the soul that supports it.
Let my voice lift to the mountains
and crash to the earth again in thunder
is my throat's supplication
from this day and forever.
Draw near to my clamor
village of the same milk as I,
tree that with its roots
holds me imprisoned,
for I am here myself to show my love
and here to defend you
with my blood as with word of mouth
that are as two faithful rifles.
If I was born of this earth,
if I have issued from a womb
wretched and impoverished,
it was only that I might be
the nightingale of misfortunes,
echo of evil luck,
to sing over and over
for those who must hear,
all that to poverty, all that to anguish,
all that to country is referred.
Yesterday the people wakened
naked and with nothing to wear,
hungry with nothing to eat,
and today has dawned
heavily tormented
bleeding in fact.
With guns in their hands
they wish themselves lions
to put an end to the savage beasts
who would ruin them as before.
Although you lack arms
village of ten times ten thousand powers
concede no rest to your bones,
punish those who dastardly wound you,
while you are possessed of fists,
nails, spit, and there lives in you
heart, guts,
a man's parts, and your teeth.
Brave as the wind is brave,
and light as the lightest airs,
kill those who would kill you,
hate him who hates
the peace of your hearts,
and the wombs of your women.
Don't let them wound you from behind
live face to face with them and die
with chests to the bullets
as broad as a wall.
I sing with the voice of a lute,
for your heroes, my own village,
your anguish one with my own,
your misfortunes that are made
of the same metal and weeping,
the same fiber
your thoughts and my own,
your heart and my blood,
your grief and the laurels which I bring
An outer buttress to nothingness
seems this life to me.
I am here to live but
while the soul lies sleeping,
and here to die
when my hour shall come,
in the bosom of my people,
from now on and forever.
Life is drunk over and over
and death is one swallow only.