I go seeking my voice
Through the garden of time
Finding something I knew
And something I didn't know
The light is kept
In its fulfillment
To find the way from the night
Where afternoons
Have their pleasures
Oh come here half moon
To show us your darkness site
Which no one knows what contains?
Fill every rose garden of lust
And bouquets with fresh perfume
Those yesterdays never gave
*Federico García Lorca once wrote about ‘The Voiceless Child’ (El nino mudo): The child goes seeking his voice… and like that child I try to find mine…; -)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem