Curse

　　by Pablo Neruda

　　 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.

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