“Can You Feel It?” Houston Bluesman, Sherman Robertson — Image by kenne
The Guitar
The weeping of the guitar
begins.
The goblets of dawn
are smashed.
The weeping of the guitar
begins.
Useless
to silence it.
Impossible
to silence it.
Tw weeps monotonously
as water weeps
over snowfields.
Impossible
to silence it.
It weeps for distant
things.
Hot southern sands
yearning 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.
— Federico Garcia Lorca
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Thanks for the wonderful post from a favourite poet.
You’re welcome!
Thank you so much!