The girl with the beautiful face
is gathering olives.
The wind, that gallant of towers,
takes her by the waist.
Four riders passed
on Andalusian ponies,
with suits of blue and green,
with long dark cloaks.
'Come to Cordoba, lass.'
The girl pays no heed.
Three young bullfighters passed,
slender of waist,
with orange-coloured suits and
swords of antique silver.
'Come to Seville, lass.'
The girl pays no heed.
When the evening became
purple, with diffused light,
a youth passed bringing
roses and myrtle of moon.
'Come to Granada, lass.'
And the girl pays no heed.
The girl with the beautiful face
goes on gathering olives,
with the grey arm of the wind
encircling her waist.
- Frederico Garcia Lorca
(Translated from the Spanish by J.L. Gili and Stephen Spender)
