SPANISH

Do you love the city that drop by drop

is carved by water in the midst of pines?

Did you see dreams and faces and roads

and walls of pain battered by the wind?

Did you see the blue gash of the broken moon?

Does the Júcar wash over it with crystal and bird song?

Have the thorns kissed your fingers?

Those thorns, they are love that crowns the distant stone.

Did you think of me when you climbed,

to reach the SILENCE of the serpent,

that prisoner of shackles and shadows?

Did you not see in the clear air

a DAHLIA of joy and suffering

sent by my burning heart?

Federico García Lorca