que despierte el leñador

we have read and heard pablo neruda's love poems. today, let's read one of his political verses --


Sandino duerme en la selva hasta ese día,
su fusil se ha llenado de lianas y de lluvia,
su rostro no tiene párpados,
pero las heridas con que lo matasteis están vivas
como las manos de Puerto Rico que esperanla
luz de los cuchillos.

Sandino sleeps in the jungle to this day,
his rifle has filled with vines and rain,
his face has no eyelids,
but the wounds with which you killed him are alive
like the hands of Puerto Rico which await
the light of knives.