I’d Like to Be Alone in the South
Perhaps my lazy eyes won’t see the south again
With its light landscapes drowsing in the air,
Its flowerlike bodies lying in the shade
Or running away at a gallop like mad horses.
The south is a desert crying as it sings,
And that voice never stops like a dead bird;
It sends its bitter desire down to the sea
Creating a faint echo that takes its time.
I want to be blended with that distant south,
The rain there is nothing but an opening rose;
Its very fog laughs, a white laugh in the wind.
Its darkness and its light are equally lovely.
-Luis Cernuda
