Que, no hay camino, caminante, so
We leave the heartfelt ways, and we proceed--
Desierta cama and turbio espejo--
Andando leaving footprints en la mar,
Triste la mar amarga, while our need
Were to be satisfied but a lo lejo’,
As it remain to us, but caminar,
For todo pasa y todo queda, ¿no?
So it were ever for the caminante,
Nor nothing but el viento makes a sound,
As eres bien tramposa so they called
You that I loved, nor it were less profound
Because the teardrops failed to start and scald--
That had perhaps begun to read my Dante.

They put me in a very tiny place,
But in a “double light” I tell my tale,
Without the hope, enclosed within this box
That someone come release me, so I dream.
To sleep, to dream, but better without fail
The waking up, el despertar, though shock’s
The burden to be borne, as with a scream
The nightmare ends, a pallor on my face.
It were a horrid moment, and I pray
Release from this enclosure, torture’s cramp
Because I misbehaved (so I am told)
A little boy left in the dark cold damp
Of utter isolation, never bold,
As by a candle he must find his way.

The candle were a spark within the mind,
Not ever any other--despertar
Would be to live, but even a las cinco
De la tarde when the blood begins to flow
As bullfighter get gored, begin a war
Against the traitor, communist and pinko,
While cramped imprisonment yet try to blow
Out that brief candle, leaving one blood blind
And I recall: the dream of Sophie Scholl
Before her execution as she carry
A babe toward its baptismal. As she fall
Deep in a sudden chasm as do bury
Extinguishing her life, the baby small
Be placed to other side: she save her soul.

It were the road to Christ, that does the Church
Symbolize—and whoever so would save
His life will have to lose it: so is meant
That in a moment one get taken, one
Be left behind, and ’tis a matter grave,
Though one were child or youth, yet innocent,
Or were adult mature; and so get done
Selection process as leave in the lurch
The chaff as has been winnowed from the wheat.
The Bible tells the tale, and minor saints
Surround the living, though they bear the brunt
Of prejudice and shame, slander which paints
Them other than the truth, their faith cheap stunt.
I pray thou make me strong to face defeat.