The fields
The paths
The moon
Singing
Odors flow
From
All
Sides
Though
It
Be
Night.
Guitars
And
Flamenco
But
These
Are
In
The
Distance.
Nearer
There is water gurgling
From
The
Watermill
But
From
Time
To
Time
The
Sounds
And
Cries
Of
The
Flamenco dancers
Pierce
Through
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem