Tree of Song
(from the Spanish of Federico Garcia Lorca)

Stem of voice and visage

time and time again

trembles hopelessly

in the air of yesterday.

The sighing girl

wanted to take it

but always got there

a minute too late.

Sun, moon,
a minute too late.
Sixty gray flowers
tangled round her feet.

See how she sways,

time and time again,

virgin of flower and branch

in the air of yesterday.