Ode to Salvador Dali (Federico Garcia Lorca Poems)
A rose in the high garden you desire.A wheel in the pure syntax of steel.The mountain stripped bare of Impressionist ...
A rose in the high garden you desire.A wheel in the pure syntax of steel.The mountain stripped bare of Impressionist ...
A Vienna ci sono dieci ragazze,una spalla dove piange la mortee un bosco di colombe disseccate.C'e' un frammento del mattinonel ...
Dawn in New York hasfour columns of mireand a hurricane of black pigeonssplashing in the putrid waters.Dawn in New York ...
The night soaks itself along the shore of the river and in Lolita's breasts the branches die of love. The ...
I know that my profile will be serenein the north of an unreflecting sky.Mercury of vigil, chaste mirrorto break the ...
A tree of blood soaks the morningwhere the newborn woman groans.Her voice leaves glass in the woundand on the panes, ...
Find them a conscience declared in an absolute casual sun, find them a feat ...
The weeping of the guitarbegins.The goblets of dawnare smashed.The weeping of the guitarbegins.Uselessto silence it.Impossibleto silence it.It weeps monotonouslyas water ...
Woodcutter.Cut my shadow from me.Free me from the tormentof being without fruit.Why was I born among mirrors?Day goes round and ...
La guitarra,hace llorar a los sueños.El sollozo de las almasperdidas,se escapa por su bocaredonda.Y como la tarántulateje una gran estrellapara ...
peaceful waters of the airunder echo's branchespeaceful waters of a poolunder a bough laden with starspeaceful waters of your mouthunder ...
The fat lady came out first, tearing out roots and moistening drumskins. The fat lady who turns dying octopuses inside ...
The men kept to themselves: they were waiting for the swiftness of the last cyclists. The women kept to themselves: ...
Each afternoon in Granada, each afternoon, a child dies. Each afternoon the water sits down and chats with its companions. ...
Oranges do not grow in the sea neither is there love in Sevilla. You in Dark and the I the ...
I want to sleep the dream of the apples, to withdraw from the tumult of cemetries. I want to sleep ...
El campo de olivos se abre y se cierra como un abanico. Sobre el olivar hay un cielo hundido y ...
Noche de cuatro lunas y un solo ?rbol, con una sola sombra y un solo p?jaro. Busco en mi carne ...
Sobre el cielo de las margaritas ando. Yo imagino esta tarde que soy santo. Me pusieron la luna en las ...
The night soaks itself along the shore of the river and in Lolita's breasts the branches die of love. The ...
No one understood the perfume of the dark magnolia of your womb. Nobody knew that you tormented a hummingbird of ...
En la redonda encrucijada, seis doncellas bailan. Tres de carne y tres de plata. Los sue?os de ayer las buscan ...
The litle boy was looking for his voice. (The King of the crickets had it.) In a drop of water ...
1 Alta va la luna. Bajo corre el viento. (Mis largas miradas, exploran el cielo.) Luna sobre el agua, Luna ...
Largo espectro de plata conmovida el viento de la noche suspirando, abri? con mano gris mi vieja herida y se ...
If I die, leave the balcony open. The little boy is eating oranges. (From my balcony I can see him.) ...
Playing her parchment moon Precosia comes along a watery path of laurels and crystal lights. The starless silence, fleeing from ...
In Vienna there are ten little girls, a shoulder for death to cry on, and a forest of dried pigeons. ...
Su luna de pergamino Preciosa tocando viene por un anfibio sendero de cristales y laureles. El silencio sin estrellas, huyendo ...
So I took her to the river believing she was a maiden, but she already had a husband. It was ...
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