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Tu elegía, Granada,
la dicen las estrellas
que horadan desde el cielo
tu negro corazón.
La dice el horizonte perdido
de tu vega,
la repite solemne la yedra
que se entrega
a la muda caricia del viejo
torreón.
(...)
Tú, ciudad de ensueño
y de la luna llena,
que albergaste pasiones
gigantescas de amor,
hoy ya muerta, reposas
sobre rojas colinas,
teniendo entre las yedras
añosas de tus ruinas
el acento doliente del
dulce ruiseñor.
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Your elegy, Granada, is
spoken by the stars
which from the heavens
perforate your black heart.
It is spoken by the lost
horizon of your Vega,
it is repeated solemnly
by the ivy that yields
to the silent caress of
the old tower.
(...)
You, city of dreams and
of the full moon,
which harboured gigantic
passions of love
that have since died, rest
on red hills
with the sorrowful accent
of the sweet nightingale
among the agéd ivy
of your ruins.
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