reza calla y trabaja on a wall in granada work in silence and pray

and silence and work and pray in granada a wall at the moorish casa del chapiz no

lazy bum will go to heaven seeing from above an inner wall la educación

is the work of all ave maria in granada see him en su granada and that

day the deserted casa del chapiz no arabist for the arabesques

a woman looking after a child behind a low door and praying

working in silence knowing nothing and working unable to tell

us anything y reza and later plazuela san nicolas the white on white

on white and silence in the white on white on white whitewash swarming white

on white swarming whitewash round cobblestones on the street and white within

a white arch white whispering whitewash and white works a white wall

and beyond in the distance beyond the a generalife's and alhambra's crimson contour

the white plaza contains itself containing itself like a scream of limestone and the

generalife and the alhambra crimson amid black cypresses mudejar face

of granada and now priestley's garden cars stopping the guardias civiles

the british ambassador touring the place in caudillo's gala

and from priestley's garden priestley emerges or it could be to receive him

an array of carriages scandalize the quiet her british majesty's

ambassador visits a nobleman in granada kids scurrying

fleeing to the hollows of doors the violated white the marrow of white

wounded the wrath of whiteness flowing over plazuela

san nicolás is not what it used to be two minutes ago once broken

the secrecy of white wild waterless white of whitewash that whispers

and works y estamos sentados sobre un volcán a volcano the driver said on the

patio of the chartreuse sitting on the patio of the alhambra christened by

the crimson afternoon waiting for them to rip a volcano open heart beating in

granada and that's why on the wall reza and work and silence san bernardo religión

y patria and again the albaicín with its gardens cármenes and glorietas albaicín hanging

gardens from a cliff with hundreds of minute miradores overlooking the alhambra

and the red generalife outlined in black scarlet turning gold

the bold moorish sun and the mauresque murals of granada but the silence

plazuela or plazeta san nicolás broken for a mere minute forever never

but whispers and whitewash quiet whisper of the first

white leaning out and hurling us catapulting us into white

overwhelming white mass of whiteness flinging us most pale rubber of

utter whiteness hurling us against the blackcrimson horizon landing of

another horizon the alwaysgrayhaired shimmery snow of the sierra nevada now

i write now the vision is paper and ink on paper the white is paper

autauric stuccos and mozarab masses of paper do not return but the cuticle

of time the lunule of the nail of time and that's why i write and that's why

i'm a scribe on the nail of time gnawing down to the root of the nail root of the tail

the juice of the junk i don't revoke the patina of paper the peel of paper the core

of paper the paper cork that covers the crimson carnal heart of granada where a volcano sitting above

explodes and that's why it whispers y por eso trabaja and that's why por eso