puisi, karya: Federico Garcia Lorca
Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent,
the solitary rose of your breath,
places on my cheek at night.
I am afraid of being on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp or clay
for the worm of my despair.
If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my smothered pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone my master,
never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged autumn.