Empty
Empty, how I want you Empty
Empty wind. Empty branches
The ship out on the sea
And the horse on the mountain
With the shade around her waist
She dreams on her balcony
Green flesh, her hair so Empty
With eyes of cold silver
Empty, how I want you Empty
Under the gypsy moon
All things are watching her
And she cannot see them
Empty, how I want you Empty
Big hoarfrost stars
Come with the fish of shadow
That opens the road of dawn
The fig tree rubs its wind
With the sandpaper of its branches
And the forest, cunning cat
Bristles its brittle fibers
But who will come? And from where?
She is still on her balcony
Green flesh, her hair green
Dreaming in the bitter sea
-My friend, I want to trade
My horse for her house
My saddle for her mirror
My knife for her blanket
My friend, I come bleeding
From the gaets of Cabra
-If it were possible, my boy
I’d help you fix that trade
But now I am not I
Nor is my house now my house
-My friend, I want to die
Decently in my bed
Of iron, if that’s possible
With blankets of fine chambray
Don’t you see the wound I have
From my chest up to my throat?
-Your white shirt has grown
Thisty dark brown roses
Your blood oozes and flees
Around the corners of your sash
But now I am not I
Nor is my house now my house
-Let me climb up, at least
Up to the high balconies;
Let me climb up! let me
Up to the green balconies
Railings of the moon
Through which the water rumbles
Now the two friends climb up
Up to the high balconies
Leaving a trail of blood
Leaving a trail of teardrops
Tin bell vines
Were trembling on the roofs
A thousand crystal tambourines
Struck at the dawn light
Green, how I want you green
Green wind, green branches
The two friends climbed up
The stiff wind left
In their mouths, a strange taste
Of bile, of mint, and of basil
My friend, where is she- tell me-
Where is your bitter girl?How many times she waited for you!
How many times would she wait for you
Cold face, black hair
On this green balcony!
Over the mouth of the cistern
The gypsy girl was swinging
Green flesh, her hair green
With eyes of cold silver
An icicle of moon
Holds her up above the water
The night became intimate
Like a little plaza
Drunken ‘Guardias Civiles”
Were pounding on the door
Green, how I want you green
Green wind. Green branches
The ship out on the sea
And the horse on the mountain
