In Vienna there are ten little girls, <br />a shoulder for death to cry on, <br />and a forest of dried pigeons. <br />There is a fragment of tomorrow <br />in the museum of winter frost. <br />There is a thousand-windowed dance hall. <br /> <br />Ay, ay, ay, ay! <br />Take this close-mouthed waltz. <br /> <br />Little waltz, little waltz, little waltz, <br />of itself of death, and of brandy <br />that dips its tail in the sea. <br /> <br />I love you, I love you, I love you, <br />with the armchair and the book of death, <br />down the melancholy hallway, <br />in the iris's darkened garret, <br /> <br />Ay, ay, ay, ay! <br />Take this broken-waisted waltz. <br /> <br />In Vienna there are four mirrors <br />in which your mouth and the ehcoes play. <br />There is a death for piano <br />that paints little boys blue. <br />There are beggars on the roof. <br />There are fresh garlands of tears. <br /> <br />Ay, ay, ay, ay! <br />Take this waltz that dies in my arms. <br /> <br />Because I love you, I love you, my love, <br />in the attic where the children play, <br />dreaming ancient lights of Hungary <br />through the noise, the balmy afternoon, <br />seeing sheep and irises of snow <br />through the dark silence of your forehead <br /> <br />Ay, ay, ay, ay! <br />Take this " I will always love you" waltz <br /> <br />In Vienna I will dance with you <br />in a costume with <br />a river's head. <br />See how the hyacinths line my banks! <br />I will leave my mouth between your legs, <br />my soul in a photographs and lilies, <br />and in the dark wake of your footsteps, <br />my love, my love, I will have to leave <br />violin and grave, the waltzing ribbons<br /><br />Federico García Lorca<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/little-viennese-waltz/
