You said the sun would rise.
Let’s go
along those unmapped paths
to free the green alligator you love.

And let’s go obliterating
insults with our
brows swept with dark insurgent stars.
We shall have victory or shoot past death.

At the first shot the whole jungle
will awake with fresh amazement and
there and then serene company
we’ll be at your side.

When your voice quarters the four winds
reforma agraria, justice, bread, freedom,
we’ll be there with identical accents
at your side.

And when the clean operation against the tyrant
ends at the end of the day
there and then set for the final battle
we’ll be at your side.

And when the wild beast licks his wounded side
where the dart of Cuba hits him
we’ll be at your side
with proud hearts.

Don’t ever think our integrity can be sapped
by those decorated fleas hopping with gifts
we want their rifles, their bullets a rock
nothing else.

And if iron stands in our way
we ask for a sheet of Cuban tears
to cover our guerrilla bones
on the journey to American history.

Nothing more.

(México, 1956)