Well...

  (1950-2003) Les Mots Longs, Gallimart, traduit du Finnois par Gabriel Rebourcet

After A Walk Cut down by the sky. Between shapes moving toward the serpent and crystal-craving shapes, I'll let my hair grow. With the amputated tree that doesn't sing and the child with the blank face of an egg. With the little animals whose skulls are cracked and the water, dressed in rags, but with dry feet. With all the bone-tired, deaf-and-dumb things and a butterfly drowned in the inkwell. Bumping into my own face, different each day. Cut down by the sky! Federico García Lorca, I-Poems of Solitude in Columbia University, in Poet in New York. C. 1929

As soon as the full moon rises, I'm going to Santiago in a coach of black water. I'm going to Santiago. The thatched roofs will sing. I'm going to Santiago. When the palm wants to be a stork, I'm going to Santiago. When the banana tree wants to be a sea wasp, I'm going to Santiago. I'm going to Santiago with Fonseca's blond head. I'm going to Santiago. And with Romeo and Juliet's rose I'm going to Santiago. Paper sea and silver coins. I'm going to Santiago. Oh, Cuba, oh, rhythm of dried seeds! I'm going to Santiago. Oh, fiery waists, oh, drop of wood! I'm going to Santiago. Harp of living tree trunks. Crocodile. Tobacco plant in bloom! I'm going to Santiago. I always said I'd go to Santiago in a coach of black water. I'm going to Santiago. Wind and rum on the wheels, I'm going to Santiago. My coral in the darkness, I'm going to Santiago. The sea drowned in the sand, I'm going to Santiago. Oh, the bovine coolness of sugar cane! Oh, Cuba! Oh, curve of sigh and clay! I'm going to Santiago. Federico García Lorca, X-The Poet arrives in Havana, in Poet in New York.