Ah me, my dark love's ever secret call!
Ah me, that bleating without wool! That gash!
Ah me, that needle of gall, camellia like ash!
Ah me, this sealess tide, city with no wall!
This endless night with silhouette secure,
celestial mountain formed of anguish and distress!
Alas, this dog in my heart, my voice so stressed!
Ah me, the silence is boundless, the lily mature.
You heated voice of ice, go, let me be,
don't try to make me lose my way in the slough
with flesh and heaven moaning fruitlessly.
Leave the hard ivory shell of my brow,
take away my pain! oh pity me,
for I am love, and I am nature now!
Federico García Lorca, 1935-1936
Translator: Brian Cole