Federico García Lorca
Cordova, far and lonely. Black pony, full moon, And olives in my pocket: Although I know the roads, I’ll never reach Cordova. For the plain, for the wind, Black pony, red moon, And death is watching for me Beside Cordova’s towers. Alas! the long, long highway, Alas! my valient pony, Alas, that death is waiting Before I reach Cordova. Cordova, far and lonely.