Casida of Sobbing

         Federico Garcia Lorca, tr. Robert Bly

   I have shut my balcony door
because I don't want to hear the sobbing,
but from behind the grayish walls
nothing else comes out but sobbing.

   Very few angels are singing,
very few dogs are barking,
a thousand violins fit into the palm of my hand.

   But the sobbing is a gigantic dog,
the sobbing is a gigantic angel,
the sobbing is a gigantic violin,
tears close the wind's jaws,
all there is to hear is sobbing.