Federico García Lorca Selenie

On the top of the mountain,
On the top of the head,
Chapel.
In the pearl waters
A century goes by
Black olives.
People diverge in cloaks,
And on the tower
The weather vane is spinning,
Rotates day and night,
Rotates nightly,
Spins forever.
Oh, somewhere a lost village
In my Andalusia
Lacrimal ...

Disclaimer: I just found these in my library. I do not have the rights to them,
I just them and decided to share them with you.