In the green morning
I wanted to be a heart.
A heart.
I wanted to be a heart.
A heart.
And in the ripe evening
I wanted to be a nightingale.
A nightingale.
I wanted to be a nightingale.
A nightingale.
(Soul,
turn orange-colored.
Soul,
turn the color of love.)
turn orange-colored.
Soul,
turn the color of love.)
In the vivid morning
I wanted to be myself.
A heart.
I wanted to be myself.
A heart.
And at the evening's end
I wanted to be my voice.
A nightingale.
I wanted to be my voice.
A nightingale.
Soul,
turn orange-colored.
Soul,
turn the color of love.
turn orange-colored.
Soul,
turn the color of love.
Federico Garcia Lorca, "Selected Verse"
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