La Martinada: Epic Poem on the Life and Death of Padre Martínez of Taos

Tierras de Sangre de Cristo, empapadas de sangre,

Montañas habitadas por Cristos lacerantes,

Cristos de ojos hispanos;

Cristos que cantan saetas al Redentor que muere,

O tal vez a su cepa que también agoniza.

Son la cepa de Cides, Quijotes, o Teresas;

Los que hacen de la vida o locuras o poemas,

Hoy solo serán gestos y mañana vive Dios en epopeyas americanas.

Así brotan las flores al pie de la Cruz frondosa.

Ya la raza intrépida, los valles grises mora,

Y enflorece la Cruz, dónde se torna roja en Comunión de Sangre.

O raza hispana fecunda, ¿por que esparces sangre en ritmo de vida?

Cual Cristo agonizante, frondosa será siempre tu Cruz culturizante.

Oh, Lands of The Sangre de Cristo, soaked by the Blood of Christ,

Oh, mountains inhabited by Christs, torn asunder with pain,

Christs known for their Hispanic eyes;

Christs who wail out mournful songs to the Redeemer who dies,

Or perhaps to His purity which also agonizes.

'Tis the purity of Cids, Quijotes, or Theresas;

Those who mark their lives with madness or poetry,

Today they are only gests but tomorrow God lives on in these American epics.

Thus, the flowers bloom at the foot of the flourishing Cross,

The fearless race now darkens its valleys where it subsists,

And the Cross blooms, as it turns red with the Communion of Blood.

Oh, fertile Hispanic race, why dost thou shed blood in thy rhythm of life?

Wherein the dying Christ, always feeds the blooming Cross with its culture.

Poema dedicado al Padre Martínez de Taos

Poem dedicated to Padre Martinez of Taos