To the ruins of Italica, now called Old Seville, near which lie his family's estate
These that yield up bread vast fields today,
were once Italica. This plain was shrine.
To Theodosius here, to Trajan there
raised statues their victorious fatherland.
In this precinct Lamia and Flora were
the flame and idol of the masses vain;
in this precinct the proudest warrior
the voice waited to hear of clapping hands.
How all did die, alas! but there, upright,
in spite of time and fortune, here and there,
those oft-contested stones we still can see.
If they can conquer time and the extremes
of evil, silent and long suffering stones,
we'll suffer too, my love, and silent be.
Francisco de Medrano
Translation by Alix Ingber