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Casida of the Rose~Frederico Garcia Lorca
The rose
was not searching for the sunrise:
almost eternal in its branch,
it was searching for something else.
The rose
was not searching for darkness or science:
borderline of flesh and dream,
it was searching for something else.
The rose
was not searching for the rose.
Motionless in the sky
it was searching for something else.
Translated by Robert Bly
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