Hyssop and blade
have been crux,
spreading waters holy
and spilling the wine
of blood. Centuries
have thus nourished race.
Together they've nurtured offspring
of the blessed and children
of landed gentry, with
those who carry the mark
of descent from african slaves,
or from magnific indios,
like lofty Nicarao, to whom an amiable cacique
gifted a bridge of canoes
to traverse Lake
Managua. That is what's epic, what's lyric.
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