Serenata
The night soaks itself
along the shore of the river
and in Lolitas breasts
the branches die of love.
The branches die of love.
he night sings
above the bridges of March.
Lolita bathes her body
with salt water and roses.
The branches die of love.
The night of anise and silver
shines over the rooftops.
Silver of streams and mirrors
Anise of your white thighs.
The branches die of love.
Federico García Lorca