Federico Garcia Lorca

Today is a day for poetry, not some rhymed stuff for some family occasion such as Christmas or B'Day, but real poetry which is born in a talented heart to penetrate other sensitive hearts...

The Ballad of the Salt-Water

The sea smiles far-off.

Spume-teeth,

sky-lips.

‘What do you sell, troubled child,

child with naked breasts?’

‘Sir, I sell

salt-waters of the sea.’

‘What do you carry, dark child,

mingled with your blood?’

‘Sir, I carry

salt-waters of the sea.’

‘These tears of brine

where do they come from, mother?’

‘Sir, I cry

salt-waters of the sea.’

‘Heart, this deep bitterness,

where does it rise from?’

‘So bitter, the salt-waters

of the sea!’

The sea smiles far-off.

Spume-teeth.

Sky-lips.

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Ay, the pain it costs me

to love you as I love you!

For love of you, the air, it hurts,

and my heart,

and my hat, they hurt me.

Who would buy it from me,

this ribbon I am holding,

and this sadness of cotton,

white, for making handkerchiefs with?

Ay, the pain it costs me

to love you as I love you!