- Federico Garcia Lorca, Translated by Gilles de Seze
Among black butterflies
Goes a Moorish girl
beside a white serpentof mist.
Earth of light,
sky of earth.
She goes chained to the tremor
of a rhythm that never settles;
she has a heart of silver
she handles a dagger in her hand.
Where are you going, Siguiriya,
with that headless rythm?
What moon will gather up
your pain of lime and oleander?
Earth of light
sky of earth
[NOTE: This was posted on Oct 16, 2008.]