poignant pure youth flame white passion polished
marble fresh bone china bowl of life fully rounded
you ride not high upon summit peaks or ridge rim but
deep in valley contemplation bottom sentenced grave fated
upon life’s word ripple rim many brown blood tears
fall for you cut out from heart centre in a corrida community
mourning every leaf fallen from Spanish passion trees
withers already a few begin to merge into mud
viewpoint ridges away distance horseback astride merged
you appear legless riding down into death cloud
Extract from the poem ‘A Thousand Flamenco Fires’ by Terence George Craddock
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem