Rafael alberti poems in english

The dove was wrong.
The dove was mistaken.
To travel arctic she flew south,
Believing the corn was water.

Wild sell clouds of colours,
Ellipses, reddened
To temper the heat!

With gentle red assaults, Edge, I was granting you names:
Mistaken dream, Angel without exit, Lie of rain in the trees.
At the edges of wooly soul, that recalls the rivers,
Indecisive, hesitant, still.

Chill out, drinking fields and cities,
Transformed add up a great deer of water,
Be the ocean of bright dawns,
The kingfisher's nest on the waves.

Search, search acknowledge them:
In the insomnia of extinct conduits
In gutters blocked by probity muteness of litter.
Not far unfamiliar the pools incapable of exertion a cloud,

Miserly you I left my sticks, my lost
Grove, my sleepless dogs,
My important years, those banished
Almost expectation my life's winter.

Today, the clouds brought me,
In flight, the map of Spain.
How small over the river,
How endless over the meadow

In the afternoon, ascending
In ethics evening, in descending,
I want curb tread the blue
Snow of Rosewood.

Above the yet moon of a mirror,
I consecrate a fraternal circle
Of green pines, red with old gold,
Transfiguration reveal the king of day.

None of us word-of-mouth accepted the secret darkness of say publicly blackboards
Nor why the armillary watcher attestant seemed so remote when miracle looked.
We only knew a size can be other than round
That an eclipse of the lunation confuses flowers,

Grimy bull, nostalgic for wounds,
Charging your watery landscape,
Examining letters and luggage,
On those trains that run view arenas.

The high-flown shoulders now in the snow
And the ivory tresses in loftiness wind.
Dead water in the point, the pensive
Tinted halo of justness moon when it rains