Pablo Neruda
It is necessary to judge those hands stained
by the dead he killed with his terror;
the dead from under the earth
are rising up like seeds of sorrow.
Because this is a time never before dreamed of.
And Nixon, the trapped rat,
his eyes wide with fear,
is watching the rebirth of flags shot down.
He was defeated every day in Vietnam.
In Cuba his rage was driven away
and now in the buried twilight
this rodent is gnawing at Chile
not knowing that Chileans of little importance
are going to give him a lesson in honor.