Before the Dawn

A poem by Federico García Lorca

But like love
the archers
are blind

Upon the green night,
the piercing saetas
leave traces of warm
lily.

The keel of the moon
breaks through purple clouds
and their quivers
fill with dew.

Ay, but like love
the archers
are blind!

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Before the Dawn' by Federico García Lorca

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy