The mysterious "Zap" slip of paper that I posted about a few days ago was found on a page with this poem. I found a new blog Myth of Arrival that has a fascinating, close reading of "San Raphael"
Saint Raphael (Córdoba)
translated by ZJC
Veiled coaches passed by
along the reeds, along the shore,
where a nude Roman torso
lies smoothed by waves.
Coaches the Guadalquivir
reflects across its fertile mirror,
between the laboring clouds
and mournful flowers.
Young boys weave and sing
out the truth about the world
near the primeval, squandered,
nocturnal coaches.
But Córdoba does not shudder
under the gyre of this melodrama,
for though the shadows give out
an architecture of smoke,
a marble foot maintains
its splendor, dry and chaste.
Petals of gossamary tin
in pure grays are scaled
from the wind, unfurling
over the intoxicated arches.
And while Neptune's ten murmurs
blow the bridge about,
tobacco vendors flee
through a hole in the wall.
Federico Garcia Lorca
The white flowers are a thank you to Lotusgreen for her newest post at Japonisme.
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