Ernesto

Impervious to the favonian breeze
You turn incarnadine, the soil;
Of generations of mute peasants
Imprecated by their own indigence
Your dream, to vivify the dead
To give voice to slashed tongues
To raise fists calloused with care
And dry tears with the heat of fire
Yes, teach the mould on earth
To defy the heights of empyrean
Your blood no precious than water
Your flesh carved out of earth;
You defied the mountains and
Changed the course of streams
Your love stained red flag-staff
Affixing your corpse to death;
And all for the sake of loaves
Of our anhydrous daily bread