به هر حال باید خدایی وجود داشته باشه . هر قدر هم که کوچیک باشه. تا صاعقه‌رو رو مردایی که نطفه‌ی گندیده‌شون شادیِ زمینو به لجن می‌کشه نازل کنه . یرما-… - Federico García Lorca

"Farewell "

If I am dying,
leave the balcony open.

The child is eating an orange.
(From my balcony, I see him.)

The reaper is reaping the barley.
(From my balcony, I hear him.)

If I am dying,
leave the balcony open.

Pero yo ya no soy yo,
ni mi casa es ya mi casa.

The artist, and particularly the poet, is always an anarchist in the best sense of the word. He must heed only the call that arises within him from three strong voices: the voice of death, with all its foreboding, the voice of love and the voice of art.