Pero ya duerme sin fin. Ya los musgos y la hierba abren con dedos seguros la flor de su calavera. Y su sangre ya viene cantando: cantando por marismas y praderas, resbalando por cuernos ateridos, vacilando sin alma por la niebla, tropezando con miles de pezunas como una larga, oscura, triste lengua, para formar un charco de agonia junto al Guadalquivir de las estrellas. ?Oh blanco muro de Espana! ?Oh negro toro de pena! ?Oh sangre dura de Ignacio! ?Oh ruisenor de sus venas!
About this quote
- What does it mean?
- Death is depicted as a sleeping process where nature reclaims the body while the spirit flows into the land.
- In plain terms
- The dead man sleeps as grass grows over his skull and blood flows like a song.
- What can you take from it?
- Death is not the end but a transformation into nature.
Where it applies
Putting it to work
Questions to consider
- How does blood become a song?
- What happens to the soul?
Another view
The romanticization of death may ignore its finality.
More from Federico Garcia Lorca
?Que no quiero verla! Dile a la luna que venga, que no quiero ver la sangre de Ignacio sobre la arena. ?Que no quiero verla!
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