14.11.17

Los Huerseros (The Bones)


Laying down his bones 
in the back alley 
of the dispossessed 
the lonely man shivers 
in the streetlight 

Ambushing archers, 
waiting in the wood, 
keep a keen eye 
far into the distance 
for the enemies 
of love 

She picks up his bones 
breathes flesh from her stone, 
but then walks away, 
stinging his skin  
with a slap to awake him 

Leaving his bones, again ... 

Le Heusero died again, 
and he lingers here, 
beneath this tree, 
as the corridor waits 
to hear the song 
of the beautiful woman  
whose legend is told 
from hill to hill, 
mountain to mountain, 
sea to misty sea.

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