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.