Federico García Lorca

Song of the rider

Córdoba.

Far away, and lonely.



Full moon, black pony,

olives against my saddle.

Though I know all the roadways

I’ll never get to Córdoba.



Through the breezes, through the valley,

red moon, black pony.

Death is looking at me

from the towers of Córdoba.



Ay, how long the road is!

Ay, my brave pony!

Ay, death is waiting for me,

before I get to Córdoba
Córdoba
Far away, and lonely