Before the Dawn by Federico Garcia Lorca

But like love
the archers
are blind

Upon the green night,
the piercing saetas
leave traces of warm
lily.

The keel of the moon
breaks through purple clouds
and their quivers
fill with dew.

Ay, but like love
the archers
are blind!

by Federico Garcia Lorca

Other poems by 'Federico Garcia Lorca'

Romance Sonombulo

Ballad of the Moon

City That Does Not Sleep

The Weeping

Lament For Ignacio Sanchez Mejias

Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint

Train Ride

Weeping

Arbol?, Arbol? . . .

Ditty of First Desire

Search Poems
e.g. love, marriage, kids

Popular poems this week

In Silence We Left

The Lost Dances of Cranes

The Author to her Book

Summer Evening

The Lesson

To Mæcenas

A chilly Peace infests the Grass

You Fit Into Me

Still I Rise

Les Lauriers Sont Coupée