Sunday Prayer

New Songs

The afternoon says:

“I’m thirsty for shadow!”
And the moon: “I want stars.”
The crystal fountain asks for lips,
the wind, for sighs.

I’m thirsty for scents and for laughter.
Thirsty for new songs
without irises or moons,
without dead loves.

A morning song that can shiver
quiet backwaters
of the future and fill
their waves and silt with hope.

A luminous and tranquil song
full of thought,
virgin to sadness and anguish,
virgin to reverie.

A song skinned of lyric, filling
silence with laughter.
(A flock of blind doves
tossed into mystery.)

A song to go to the soul of things
and to the soul of winds,
resting at last in the bliss
of the eternal heart.

– Federico Garcia Lorca