Gacela of the Dead Child (Federico Garcia Lorca Poem)
Each afternoon in Granada, each afternoon, a child dies. Each afternoon the water sits down and chats with its companions. ...
Each afternoon in Granada, each afternoon, a child dies. Each afternoon the water sits down and chats with its companions. ...
So I took her to the river believing she was a maiden, but she already had a husband. It was ...
In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl ...
I have shut my windows. I do not want to hear the weeping. But from behind the grey walls. Nothing ...
1. Cogida and death At five in the afternoon. It was exactly five in the afternoon. A boy brought the ...
Never let me lose the marvel of your statue-like eyes, or the accent the solitary rose of your breath places ...
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