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If my hands could pluck

If my hands could pluck


November 10, 1919
(Granada)


I pronounce your name in the dark nights when the stars come

to drink on the moon and sleep

branches of the fronds hidden.
And I feel hollow
of passion and music. Loco

clock that sings old dead hours.

I pronounce your name,
in this dark night, and

your name sounds more distant than ever.
more distant than any star
and more pain than the gentle rain.

I love you like
then ever?
What fault has my heart?
If the mist dissipates, another passion
what I expected? Is
calm and pure?

If my fingers could pluck the moon!


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Lorca