The Alcázar, much written of thee hast been,
A quiet shady spot below the green,
Didst those afternoons then there pass,
The weeping wail of a guitar 'till last.
An unremitting den of vice,
Where ashes pile up further than lice,
Triana's suburb the friendliest place to be,
Many an adventure there follow'd he.
Smok'd into an odorously convex'd space,
Glass and litter left all o'er the place,
Where didst then grind beneath the wheels,
Despite carts and horses’ noble appeals.
There Calle Betis then was found,
That for which Hispalis is well renown'd,
The fast track'd beat, a popular sound,
Of clapping hands, feet stomping the ground!
Bones, like a crust, map the minutes,
Fingers fit through thy painful limits,
The nylon string'd heart pluck'd terribly,
Given up none to a gracious melody.
A rose shalt thou not now refuse,
Nor an effacious effrontery abuse,
Saturn's flow lost unto Duende,
Those laments oft' give rise a las lagrimas del gente.
The dancing girls swing their way,
On you their eyes curl and play,
A dangerous game that is unavoidable,
The procession moves on, the pace past applaudable!
Down below now! A deceitful corner,
Las cañas shalt flow -no need now to order,
Set there to ecstasy, a passing glee,
The spinning tops turn as though free!
... And polka dotted dresses whiz in a blur,
Were it not there other? -But rather her?
Not only in memory, you saw that smile,
The chase grows swift, now keep up your guile!
Almenecer! The sweet night follow'd within,
Oh! If only thou hadst come -not in sin!
Our passion's meaning -with or without,
Seek shells from the tide, lengthen life by a shout!
Unto thee they shall replenish and give,
What thou hast waited -a chance! -to live!
We'd do the same, here be so certain,
When the show doth go on as thou behind curtains!
Of days so short, 'tis known there be many,
To do as thou shalt, or else earn every moment a penny,
And leave freewill to thought untam'd,
Mind thee not to take too long -energy drain'd!
Further out! Oh! We've been up to the heights!
Howe'er deep thoughts lead to naught but fights,
Think thy fine thoughts, shalt I not begrudge,
But in action history knows how long thou hast trudg'd!
Y de noche! When in Britannia ready to depart,
Fine times we doth know, that nothing here starts,
'Till the twilight hour, none the earlier dost go,
In Hispalis' streets the party rarely doth slow!
"Las Calles quickly fill'd,
E'erywhere drinks spilt,
Sing aloud and kiss,
'Till hovering o'er an abyss!"
Of people they doth come and go,
By foot all night long on show,
How could it be that nobody here hurries?
Rather laugh and joke, leave aside thy worries!
'Twas conquer'd once, The Golden Tower,
Though e'en to this day retaineth thee in power,
An intense feeling of joy's sweltering heat,
That burns away ill will, leaving a clean sheet.
... And bath'd thee well there thou hast done,
From the bridge in view, jump'd from sight gone,
Down within those dark depths below,
Swim for thy life! Or thy end thou dost sow!
Rio Guadalquivir! Through thy flowing tides!
Life ebb'd on, yet left time to bide,
The Sultan's mistress gave him pride,
Inevitable ‘twas not, she'd stay by his side.
Down plung'd they into that hard press'd stream,
And take of life where the sun didst not gleam,
A haughty drop it didst but seem,
One by one to realise what life doth mean!
The Golden Tower, agen in thy sight,
The murky depths didst cleanse the night,
Of a pale complexion 'twas but a blight,
A horrid shambles who knew naught of right!
Once more immers'd beneath the water line,
Find release from how harsh the sun didst shine,
Constant struggle dost rest thee not nor recline,
But the depths be not yours nor mine.