Landscape of a Pissing Multitude (Federico Garcia Lorca Poem)
The men kept to themselves: they were waiting for the swiftness of the last cyclists. The women kept to themselves: ...
The men kept to themselves: they were waiting for the swiftness of the last cyclists. The women kept to themselves: ...
So I took her to the river believing she was a maiden, but she already had a husband. It was ...
Tree, tree dry and green. The girl with the pretty face is out picking olives. The wind, playboy of towers, ...
After rain, through afterglow, the unfolding fan of railway landscape sidled onthe pivot of a larger arc into the green ...
1. Cogida and death At five in the afternoon. It was exactly five in the afternoon. A boy brought the ...
The moon came into the forge in her bustle of flowering nard. The little boy stares at her, stares. The ...
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