Absent Soul (Excerpt)

No one knows you. No. But I sing to you.
I sing for the future your profile and your grace.
The ripe gleam of your wisdom.
Your appetite for death and the taste of its mouth.
The sadness borne in your valiant joy.

—Federico García Lorca, “Lament for the Death of Ignacio Sánchez Mejías.” The Literary Review, no. 2, 2013. Translated from Spanish by Pablo Medina.

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