El campo
de olivos
se abre y se cierra
como un abanico.
Sobre el olivar
hay un cielo hundido
y una lluvia oscura
de luceros fríos.
Tiembla junco y penumbra
a la orilla del río.
Se riza el aire gris.
Los olivos,
están cargados
de gritos.
Una bandada
de pájaros cautivos,
que mueven sus larguísimas
colas en lo sombrío.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 1496 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Federico Garcia Lorca
Poem: Paisaje

Poem of the Day on:
Oct 1 2009
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