Perhaps there’s mercy in the skies,
although the Spaniards have seen none.
The tears of horror in their eyes
reflect the fury of the sun
lifting the curtain over dawn.
They know that Orlov’s Reds were there:
a priest lies bludgeoned on the lawn,
and Christian Spain lies struck at prayer.

Leo Yankevich

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/barcelona-1936/