Adios to the lands and great house, Caballero,
A kiss for the Lady in White and your friends,
For you ride out to meet the wild Toronegro
Pounding the plain, and the world on you depends.

Now that sombre shape as the moon is dawning
Behind you is not yet horned with sails,
And a blade through the neck will dropp him, fawning,
In a test which your fool on his ass ever fails.

Though the bull should blast into stormswept hells
All knights, you shine even there, dimmed never.
For the bullet has not yet has culled the white horn

Nor the navy lowered its dark-mouthed barrels
To blast the last steed into kingdom ever
From a cloistered village, just before you were born.