“ "And I took her to the river / thinking it was girl / and instead had her husband. / It was the night of St. James / almost suddenly the lights went out and lit the crickets! / In the last held / touched her breasts sleeping / and suddenly I were opened as branches of hyacinth / The starch of her skirt / sounded to my ears / like a piece of silk / torn by ten knives. Without silver light on the tops / are grown trees / and a horizon of dogs / barking away from the river / Past the brambles / rushes and thorns / under the bush of her hair / I made a hole in fanchiglia. / I took off my tie. She took off her dress. / I the belt and the gun / She her four bodices / Do not have a skin so fine / the tuberous and shells at the moon / courses that night the best ways / above a filly mother of pearl / without restraint and without stirrups / her coutes escaped me / half full of embers half full of cold, / I do not mean to man the things she said / the light of understanding makes me be very discreet / Dirty kisses and sand / I took her out of the river. / Agii than they are, as a true gypsy / I gave her a basket of pale satin / and did not want to fall in love / because I said that when the girl was brought to the river- Garcia Lorca from Bride Infidel (recited)
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“ ... every year from Italy go away one hundred thousand graduates ... „