Читать книгу Cardos y lluvia - Kate Clanchy - Страница 27

Girl of the yellow, heavy-yellow, gold-yellow hair,

the song of you mouth and Europe’s shivering cry,

fair, heavy-haired, spirited, beautiful girl,

the disgrace of our day would not be bitter in your kiss.

Would your song and splendid beauty take

from me the foul black treachery,

spite of the bourgeois and poison of their creed

and the feebleness of our dismal Scotland?

Would beauty and serene music put

from me the sore frailty of this lasting cause,

the Spanish miner leaping in the face of horror

and his great spirit going down untroubled?

What would the kiss of your proud mouth be

compared with each drop of the precious blood

that fell on the cold frozen uplands

of Spanish mountains from a column of steel?

What every lock of your gold-yellow head

to all the poverty, anguish and grief

that will come and have come in Europe’s people

from the Slave Ship to the slavery of the whole people?