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Thursday, May 17, 2012

Serenata 


The night soaks itself 
along the shore of the river 
and in Lolita's breasts 
the branches die of love. 


The branches die of love. 


Naked the night sings 
above the bridges of March. 
Lolita bathes her body 
with salt water and roses. 


The branches die of love. 


The night of anise and silver 
shines over the rooftops. 
Silver of streams and mirrors 
Anise of your white thighs. 


The branches die of love. 


Federico García Lorca