Woodcutter. <br />Cut my shadow from me. <br />Free me from the torment <br />of being without fruit. <br /> <br />Why was I born among mirrors? <br />Day goes round and round me. <br />The night copies me <br />in all its stars. <br /> <br />I want to live without my reflection. <br />And then let me dream <br />that ants and thistledown <br />are my leaves and my parrots.<br /><br />Federico García Lorca<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-song-of-the-barren-orange-tree/
