There were women holding rosaries   On the day Manolete died   Teenage girls in soft white dresses   Standing silent peace respecting      Groups of boys held in their hands   The fragments of a shattered idol   The old men with their traditions challenged   Refrained from tears      Neck, neck, hook, poles of wood   The Picadors stood eyes ablaze   To view brutal contest in the vale of years   Courage unfailing agility exhausted      Youth entered challenge reached for title shelved   Patrons in attendance to disarm a common myth   Homage played to the victor of immortality   Cloaked in bold tones in the stockyard the beasts      Did climb their barriers bid by a frenzied ring   Bred for one purpose only to die in man's sport   Dash against his spindle an instant fell to wounding      On the day swords penetrating   On the day torches igniting   On the day flower wreaths encircling the day   On the day