Por el agua de Granada sólo reman los suspiros.

Baladilla de los tres ríos

A Salvador Quintero

Guadalquivir

winds between the oranges and olives

Granada’s two rivers

flow from snow to wheat.

O, my love

you went and you never came home.

Guadalquivir
whose beard flows with garnets

Granada’s two rivers

tears and blood.

O, my love

you vanished in thin air.

At Seville

the sailing ships

ride in the roads

the waters of Granada

rowed only by sighs.

O, my love

you went and you never came home.

Guadalquivir

high tower

the wind among the orange groves

Dauro and Genil

little towers

dead above the pools.

O, my love

you vanished in thin air.

Who can say

what floats in the waters?

a will o’ the wisp

of screams.

O, my love

you went and you never came home.

Olives and orange blossom

Andalusia

carry into your sea.

O, my love

you vanished in thin air.

FGL (1931)

PSY (Jan. 2025)

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She called the Devil by the Name of Bunne: The Faversham Witches (1645).

The Examination, Confession, Trial and Execution of Joan Williford, Joan Cariden and Jane Holt. Who were executed at Faversham in Kent for being Witches, on Monday the 29. of September, 1645. Being a true copy of their evil lives and wicked deeds, taken by the Mayor of Faversham and jurors for the said inquest. With the examination and confession of Elizabeth Harris, not yet executed. All attested under the hand of Robert Greenstreet, Mayor of Faversham. London, Printed for J.G. October 2. 1645. The Confession of Joan Williford, Septemb. 24. 1656, made before the Mayor, and other jurates. She confessed that the Devil about seven years ago did appear to her in the shape of a little dog, and bid her to forsake God and lean to him. Who replied, that she was loath to forsake him. She confessed also that she had a desire to be revenged upon Thomas Letherland and Mary Woodrofe, now his wife. She further said that the Devil promised her that she shoul...

Se riza el aire gris.

The field of olives opens and closes like a fan. Above the grove the sky is sunk the rain is dark the stars are cold. A trembling in the rushes and darkness falls on the riverbank. A ripple through the grey air. Olive trees laden with screams. A flock of captive birds move their long, long tails in the shadows. FGL (1931) PSY (Feb. 2025)

La Guitarra

The guitar starts crying early morning, broken glass; the guitar starts crying, and there’s no hushing her, she won’t simmer down; on and on, she cries like the running waters, the way the wind cries when it snows; she won’t simmer down, crying over far off things: the hot southern sand pleading for white camellias, an arrow with no mark, an afternoon and no tomorrow, the first bird on the branch to die; O guitar! wounded heart with five swords fixed. FGL (1931) PSY (Feb. 2025)

Paul Summers Young

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