The Dialogue Of Two Snails

Federico Garcia Lorca

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Each song is a tide pool of love. Each day-star a tide pool of time. A knot of time. And each sigh a tide pool of a cry.
Tamar and Amnon
Around Tamar the gypsies throng: the gypsy virgins wail, and others gather up the drops her martyred flower spills. In chambers locked and shuttered now white linens seem to blush
Reklam
Tamar and Amnon
—Tamar, erase my eyes with your unmoving dawn. My threads of blood will intertwine as frills along your hem. —My brother, leave me be in peace. Your kisses on my spine are wasps and spindly winds that form twin swarms of reedy pipes.
Tamar and Amnon
The moon wheels round the sky above the thirsty plains, while summer scatters rumbling seeds of tiger purrs and flame.
The Gypsy Nun
to José Moreno Villa Silence thick with lime and myrtle. Mallows in the windlestraw. The nun embroiders gillyflowers on a field of flaxen cloth. From the grizzled spider lantern seven prism-birds erupt. Far away the church is grumbling, like a bear turned belly-up. Splendid needlework! How graceful! On her flaxen tapestry, she is yearning to
Ballad of the Moon, Moon
to Conchita García Lorca The moon arose: her stage the forge, her bustle spiced with lavender. The child watches, watches her; his eyes are watching her. A rousing dance bestirs the air: the moon contorts her limbs and flaunts — lubricious, sleek, and pure — her breasts of solid tin. —Be on your way now, moon, moon, moon. If gypsies come, take
Reklam
37 öğeden 1 ile 10 arasındakiler gösteriliyor.