We're all curious about what might hurt us. - Federico García Lorca

انسان بدون آزادی چیست؟

‎آه ماریانا به من بگو
‎به من بگو چگونه می‌توانم دوستت بدارم
‎اگر که آزاد نباشم، به من بگو
‎چگونه دلم را پیشکش تو کنم
...‎اگر که از آن من نباشد

The round silence of night,
one note on the stave
of the infinite.

Ripe with lost poems,
I step naked into the street.
The blackness riddled
by the singing of crickets:
sound,
that dead
will-o'-the-wisp,
that musical light
perceived
by the spirit.

A thousand butterfly skeletons
sleep within my walls.

A wild crowd of young breezes
over the river.

- Hour of Stars (1920)

The duende....Where is the duende? Through the empty archway a wind of the spirit enters, blowing insistently over the heads of the dead, in search of new landscapes and unknown accents: a wind with the odour of a child's saliva, crushed grass, and medusa's veil, announcing the endless baptism of freshly created things.