Federico Garcia Lorca, a bit
under the arch of Elvira
I want to see you pass by,
to drink in your eyes
and start to cry.
What a voice for my punishment
you raise in the market!
What a crazed carnation
on the heaps of grain!
How far I am near you
and close when you move away!
Under the arch of Elvira
I want to see you pass by,
to feel your thighs
and start to cry.