Gypsy City: Ballad of Sorrow and Violence

Black are the horses.
The shoes are black.
Shine on the layers,
Ink stains and wax.
They have, so do not cry.
Lead the skulls.
With patent leather souls,
Come down the street.
Humpback and night,
Where they command
Silences of dark rubber
And fear of fine sand.
Pass, if they want to go,
And hide in the head,
Astronomy vague,
Guns vague.

Oh, city of gypsies!
In the corner, flags.
The moon and the pumpkin
With canned cherries.
Oh, city of gypsies!
Who saw you and forgets?
City of grief and musk,
Towers with cinnamon.

When night came,
Night, darksome night,
Gypsies at their forges,
Forging suns and arrows.
A horse, badly wounded,
Called on all doors.
Glass roosters singing
From Jerez de la Frontera.
The wind, naked again,
The corner of surprise,
At night, platinoche night,
Night, darksome night.

The Virgin and St. Joseph
Lost their castanets
And search for the gypsies
To see if they are found.
The Virgin is dressed
With a suit of mayor,
Chocolate paper
Necklaces with almonds.
St. Joseph moves his arms
Under a layer of silk.
Goes behind Pedro Domecq,
Three sultans of Persia.
The crescent, dreaming
Stork ecstasy.
Banners and lanterns
Invade the rooftops.
Sobbing in the mirrors,
Dancers without hips.
Water and shade, shadow and water
From Jerez de la Frontera.

Oh, city of gypsies!
In the corner, flags.
Turn off your green lights,
That is the worthy.
Oh, city of gypsies!
Who saw you and forgets?
Leave it far from the sea,
Without combs, her hair.

They ride two abreast,
The city of the party.
A rumor of evergreens
Invades the cartridge.
They ride two abreast.
Double night fabric.
The sky, they crave,
A showcase of spurs.

The city, free from fear,
Multiplied its doors.
Forty civil guards
Come to sack them.
The clocks stopped,
And cognac bottles
November disguised
To arouse no suspicion.
A flight of long screams
Rose in the vanes.
The swords cut the breeze
That the hooves trampled.
On the streets of shadow,
Old gypsy women run,
Sleeping with the horses
And jars of coins.
On the steep streets,
Up the sinister capes,
Leaving behind shooting,
Swirls of scissors.
In the stable of Bethlehem,
Gypsies congregate.
St. Joseph, full of wounds,
Enshrouds a maid.
Stubborn acute rifles
Ring overnight.
The Virgin heals children
With the spittle of a star.
But the Civil Guard,
Scattering fires,
Where young and naked
Imagination is burning.
Rosa of the Camborios
Sits moaning at your door,
Her two breasts cut
On a tray.
And other girls ran,
Persecuted for their braids,
Air in which explode
Roses of black powder.
When all the roofs
Were gouges in the earth,
The dawn shrugged his shoulders,
Long profile in stone.

Oh, city of gypsies!
Civil Guard departs
Through a tunnel of silence
While the flames surround you.

Oh, city of gypsies!
Who saw you and forgets?
Let them find you on my forehead.
Moon and sand play.