Genur.art

Halt, my faithful, impetuous steed, At the porch of a stranger And do not touch the raw earth With your silver horseshoe. I, like a shadow, will break into the house, I will reveal them in bed, I will lull them with eternal sleep, With a death of calmness. And then bring me To a high cliff And from the cliff Throw me from yourself into the deep Genil. The Genil makes a noise and awaits the prey But the passionate maiden does not guess And she kisses the young moor And to the young moor she sings: “Forsake words, my friend, What’s the use of vows, of promises? From your hot lips I love To drink a single kiss. Oh, why can’t I take my whole life, Sweet one, And squeeze the torrent into a kiss, Into the flame of a kiss!” It came true! Three cedars above a grave Cast a shadow upon three moons, Three multicolored Turbans are dejectedly shaken by the wind. All around the plain sadly sleeps, Only on the fresh turf of the new grave The Andalusian steed, the steed knocks With its silver horseshoe.