Fragmented evening,
field in silence.
Bee-eaters in flight,
a sigh.
Backcloth of blue and white
The landscape opens
its arms wide.
All too much,
Dear God!

Federico Garcia Lorca


spring 1686

The old pond!
a frog leap into –  
List, the water sound!

Matsuo Bashō

the silence

My child, hear the silence.
An undulating silence,
a silence
of sliding valleys and echoes
tilting brows
towards the ground.

Federico Garcia Lorca