Poetry Friday, Lorca

I want

...only your hot heart
and nothing more.

My paradise a field
without a nightingale
or lyres,
with an unobtrusive stream
and a modest fountainhead.

Without the spur of breeze
troubling the leaves,
without the star that longs
itself to be a leaf.
One enormous light

to be
the firefly
of one bigger still,
in a field of broken gazes.

A clear place of repose
and there our kissing,
loud specks shed by
echo,
would flower far abroad.

And your hot heart
and nothing more.

-Federico Garcia Lorca

A gift from The Someone this week. Sigh. Um, have I mentioned that we are undeniably perfect for one another? (By the way, I wrote that linked post almost exactly one year before our first date.)