Federico Garca Lorca — Ghazal of the Terrible Presence

I would have the water reft from its bed, I would have the wind bereft of its dell, The eyes of the night cleft down from its brow And my heart bereft of the golden flower; The huge leaves hear what the oxen say And the earthworm die of overshade ; The teeth that hang in the skullmouth glint And a gush of yellow flood out the silk. I can see the wounded night in its duel Writhing against the impending noon. I resist a green sunset of venomed skies And the ruined arch of suffering time. But don't shine your immaculate nude at me Like a black cactus opening out in the reeds. Leave me with my dark planets, let me ache But don't you dare teach me the cool of your waist!