I had not known such depth of cold existed
But thank God for the wakefulness it brings, along with shivers and stiff limbs.
The hours pass awful slow here, but I dare not break my vigil.
Those are their fires, their songs, the matchless strength of Santa Anna
Whose pleasures I now jealously observe.

Their victory sings to me from the flames,
Ranged against such futile force as ours, disdain of death our only hope.
My eyes are fixed upon them, and I think of wives and children
Who steal their slumber in the broken heart of this wrecked chapel,
Not least my dear Maria and our boy.

He comes in dreams, though yet I have not seen him -
This enemy whose stale breath makes me retch.  I feel him charge and cut me down,
His bayonet in my belly, and my blood upon his tunic.
He kicks me under heel and madly leaps to join the massacre,
My tortured soul descending into hell.

But for the time I watch the enemy sleep,
While friends alike within the walls are laid, as if to mimic things to come.
The cannons cold and quiet, and our rifles held like sweethearts,
Tonight is all we know, and all we dare to grant ourselves,
And even now before us comes the dawn.