| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
by Federico García Lorca (Translated by Cola Franzen) The weeping of the guitar begins. The goblets1 of dawn are smashed. The weeping of the guitar begins. Useless to silence it. Impossible to silence it. It weeps monotonously2 as water weeps as the wind weeps over snowfields. Impossible to silence it. It weeps for distant things. Hot southern sands yearning3 for white camellias. Weeps arrow without target evening without morning and the first dead bird on the branch. Oh, guitar! Heart mortally wounded by five swords 点击收听单词发音
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||
上一篇:Bedtime Story 下一篇:Beating his lead |
TAG标签:
- 发表评论
-
- 最新评论 进入详细评论页>>