Federico García 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 n*** 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!