“I closed my window because I do not want to hear the crying, but behind the gray walls that crying is heard no more. There are very few angels that sing, a few barking dogs; one thousand violins come in the palm of my hand. But the weeping is an immense dog, crying is an immense angel, the weeping is an immense violin, tears Gag wind. And more is not heard that cry. “
“I am a Spaniard full and I cannot live out of my geographical limits, but those who hate you Spanish for Spanish and nothing else, I am a brother to all and I find execrable man who sacrifices himself for a nationalist idea, Abstract , by the mere fact of loving their homeland with the blindfold. the Chinese feel good the next Spanish wicked. Canto Spain and feel to the core, but the first is that I am a man of the world and a brother to all. for this reason, I do not think the political frontier. “
Federico del Sagrado Corazón de Jesús García Lorca, born in 1898, in
“It starts the crying of the guitar. Break of dawn cups. The weeping of the guitar begins. It is useless to silence her. It is impossible to silence her. Monotonous cries cries as water. As the wind cries on the mountain.”
“What I enclose me in these moments of sadness? Ouch, who cuts my golden woods and flowery! What I read in the mirror silver moved that the aurora provides me with the water of the river? “
Garcia Lorca, he also visited Cuba, but in 1931 he decided to return in the
“They took me a shell. Inside sings a sea of paper. My heart fills with water with a fishes of shadow and silver. They took me a shell.”
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