Green, how I want you green,

Green, how I want you green,

Green wind, green branches.

The ship out on the sea

and the horse on the mountain,

With the shade around her waist

she dreams on her balcony, green flesh, her hair green,

with eyes of cold silver,

Green, how I want you green,

Under the gypsy moon, all things watching her

and she cannot see them

 

Spanish Poet

Federico Garcia Lorca

1898 - 1936

 

For my big brother John,

my best mate and photographic mentor.

 

View On Black

Done