The little boy was looking for his voice.

(The king of the crickets had it.)

In a drop of water

the little boy was looking for his voice.

I do not want it for speaking with:

I will make a ring of it

so that he may wear my silence

on his little finger.

I have lost myself in the sea many times

with my ear full of freshly cut flowers,

with my tongue full of love and agony.

I have lost myself in the sea many times

as I lose myself in the heart of certain children.

From where do you come, my love, my child?

From the ridge of hard frost.

What do you need, my love, my child?

The warm cloth of your dress.

Let the branches ruffle in the sun

and the fountains leap all around!

In the courtyard a dog barks,

in the trees the wind sings.

The oxen low to the ox-herd

and the moon curls my hair.

What do you ask for, my child, from so far away?

The white mountains of your breast.

Let the branches ruffle in the sun

and the fountains leap all around!

I'll tell you, my child, yes,

I am torn and broken for you.

How painful is this waist

where you will have your first cradle!

When, my child, will you come?

When your flesh smells of jasmine-flowers.

Let the branches ruffle in the sun

and the fountains leap all around!

Each afternoon in Granada,

a child dies each afternoon.

My heart of silk

is filled with lights,

with lost bells,

with lilies, and with bees,

and I will go very far,

farther than those hills,

farther than the seas,

close to the stars,

to ask Christ the Lord

to give me back my ancient soul of a child.