Lorca, Noche de amor insomne
The two of us awake at night, under a full moon
you made me cry while you laughed
Your disdain was a God and my little complaints,
a chain of moments, soft doves.
Night behind us becomes crystalized pain.
You wept over deep and distant principles.
My pain was the weakness of your heart made of sand.
Sunrise drew us together in bed
mouths poised under the frozen
endless flow of blood.
And the sun entered from the closed balcony
and the corral of our lives opened a bit
over my shaded heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem