Arbol?, Arbol? . . . (Federico Garcia Lorca Poem)
Tree, tree dry and green. The girl with the pretty face is out picking olives. The wind, playboy of towers, ...
Tree, tree dry and green. The girl with the pretty face is out picking olives. The wind, playboy of towers, ...
Why is that wanton gossip Fame So dumb about this man's affairs? Why do we titter at his name Who ...
So here's your Empire. No more wine, then? Good. We'll clear the Aides and khitmatgars away. (You'll know that fat ...
BOOK I Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from ...
Drops of blood like the pressed olives heavy, falling Gethsemane wet with the sweat the anguish the pain of Christ ...
On the Mount of Olives in the garden, Gethsemane at this rock Christ took up the cup choosing to die ...
Going to the Mount of Olives the garden, Gethsemane our master, a stone's throw farther heavy with sleep yet sensing ...
Not at the beginning not with Adam in Eden with Jesus in his anguish in the night of Gethsemane Our ...
Slowing our steps measured steps, of remembrance pilgrims, yoking our lives with Christ and with the first disciples journeying with ...
Dipping our bread in oil tins we talked of morning peeling open our rooms to a moment of almonds, olives ...
I LEGEND Long ago Apollo called to Aristæus, youngest of the shepherds, Saying, "I will make you keeper of my ...
All Greece hates the still eyes in the white face, the lustre as of olives where she stands, and the ...
Just over the horizon a great machine of death is roaring and rearing. One can hear it always. Earthquake, starvation, ...
I want to know how Bernard Shaw Likes beefsteak-fairly done, or raw? I want to know what kinds of shoes ...
Black trees against an orange sky, Trees that the wind shook terribly, Like a harsh spume along the road, Quavering ...
I. The morn when first it thunders in March, The eel in the pond gives a leap, they say: As ...
(PIANO DI SORRENTO.) Fortu, Frotu, my beloved one, Sit here by my side, On my knees put up both little ...
The cypress stood up like a church That night we felt our love would hold, And saintly moonlight seemed to ...
The browns, the olives, and the yellows died, And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed Each dawn and ...
Sublime was the warning that liberty spoke, And grand was the moment when Spaniards awoke Into life and revenge from ...
In Rome on the Campo di Fiori Baskets of olives and lemons, Cobbles spattered with wine And the wreckage of ...
--The Carpathian Frontier, October, 1968 --for my brother Once, in a foreign country, I was suddenly ill. I was driving ...
My bag was missing at the airport "Just one bag?" "Yes, but it meant a lot to me" I had ...
Into the woods my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent. Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. ...
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