Hi Nika,

I �ve never heard of this great poet before. Thanks for attracting our attentions to his great art. I loved the first poem veryyyyyyyyy much. It �s sooooooooo rich of meaning though with few lines.

I googled him and found a nice poem by hime that I would like to share with you.

Gacela of the Dead Child by Federico Garcia Lorca

Each afternoon in Granada,
each afternoon, a child dies.
Each afternoon the water sits down
and chats with its companions.

The dead wear mossy wings.
The cloudy wind and the clear wind
are two pheasants in flight through the towers,
and the day is a wounded boy.

Not a flicker of lark was left in the air
when I met you in the caverns of wine.
Not the crumb of a cloud was left in the ground
when you were drowned in the river.

A giant of water fell down over the hills,
and the valley was tumbling with lilies and dogs.
In my hands´ violet shadow, your body,
dead on the bank, was an angel of coldness.

Hugs,

some great things here as well...