Before the DawnBut like lovethe archersare blindUpon the green night,the piercing saetasleave traces of warmlily.The keel of the moonbreaks through purple cloudsand their quiversfill with dew.Ay, but like lovethe archersare blind!
Federico Garcia Lorca
Before the DawnBut like lovethe archersare blindUpon the green night,the piercing saetasleave traces of warmlily.The keel of the moonbreaks through purple cloudsand their quiversfill with dew.Ay, but like lovethe archersare blind!