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Gacela Of The Dark Death

Rating: 3.1

I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to withdraw from the tumult of cemetries.
I want to sleep the dream of that child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

I don't want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood,
that the putrid mouth goes on asking for water.
I don't want to learn of the tortures of the grass,
nor of the moon with a serpent's mouth
that labors before dawn.

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Paresh Chakra 04 December 2018

Cover me at dawn with a veil, because dawn will throw fistfuls of ants at me, and wet with hard water my shoes so that the pincers of the scorpion slide. This stanga is very nice

0 0 Reply

A beautiful write that we all can enjoy.

2 0 Reply
Zach Thomas 05 March 2018

There is an error in the translation. The line that I am the small friend of the West wing; should say that I am the small friend of the West wind;

4 0 Reply
Patti Masterman 27 November 2017

I miss poetry like this most of all.

2 0 Reply
Dawn Fuzan 11 May 2014

Nice poem federico keep it up

2 1 Reply
Aashish Ameya 24 January 2007

Simply superb, portraying the situation in which Lorca was caught and saw brutal cruelty of bourgeois society.

6 2 Reply
Jacob R 12 July 2006

You My Friend Even Thou you are long gone You are still something special

8 1 Reply

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