The Flag

The Flag

By Fernando Guerrero

Trans. by M. Norton

Swirling and dark, the torrents flow,

And right appears but wrong;

But yet there is hope, and where I go,

My flag too goes along.

The holy flag! 'Twas given me

By dead men of my race;

They loved it much, and fought to free

From threat or from disgrace.

And I defend it now, No force

Shall pull it from on high;

All-powerful in that every hour

Would spread again its folds.

Its place is fixed with the breach,

Right causes ne'er shall miss it:

But storms and flaming suns shall reach

Its tow'ring staff to kiss it.

There firmly fixed, my hopes shall see

It flaming in the sun;

Perhaps 'tis old, but ne'er 'twill be

Hauled down nor sold by one.

Raised it aloft. The heavens it scales,
And the waves and floats on high;
And with its glory mutes our wails,
Nor let our hopes e'er die.

Though dark the torrent rushes by
And right appears still wrong;
"The flag ne'er dies, whole hope beats high,"
We'll shout with voices strong.