She passes by, my girl.
How prettily she goes by!
With her little dress
of muslin.
And a captive
butterfly.
Follow her, my boy, then
up every byway!
And if you see her weeping
or weighing things up, then
paint her heart over
with a bit of purple
and tell her not to weep if
she were left single.
Flash of light
She passes by, my girl. How prettily she goes by! With her little dress of muslin. And a captive butterfly.
Follow her, my boy, then up every byway! And if you see her weeping or weighing things up, then paint her heart over with a bit of purple and tell her not to weep if she were left single.
Translated by A. S. Kline http://meaux.vox.com/library/posts/tags/lorca+poem/