Green,    you green.

        Green wind. Green branches.

        t on the sea

        and tain.

        it

        she dreams on her baly,

        green flesh, her hair green,

        h eyes of cold silver.

        Green,    you green.

        Uhe gypsy moon,

        all tg her

        and s see them.

        Green,    you green.

        Big    stars

        e he fish of shadow

        t opens the road of dawn.

        tree rubs its wind

        s branches,

        and t, ing cat,

        bristles its brittle fibers.

        But who will e? And from where?

        Sill on her baly

        green flesh, her hair green,

        dreaming in tter sea.

        --My friend, I    to trade

        my horse for her house,

        my saddle for her mirror,

        my knife for .

        My friend, I e bleeding

        from tes of Cabra.

        --If it were possible, my boy,

        Id    trade.

        But no I,

        nor is my house now my house.

        --My friend, I    to die

        detly in my bed.

        Of iron, if ts possible,

        s of fine chambray.

        Dont you see the wound I have

        from my c up to my t?

        --Your we s has grown

        ty dark brown roses.

        Your blood oozes and flees

        around the ers of your sash.

        But no I,

        nor is my house now my house.

        --Let me climb up, at least,

        up to the high balies;

        Let me climb up! Let me,

        up to the green balies.

        45

        Railings of the moon

        ter rumbles.

        Nowo friends climb up,

        up to the high balies.

        Leaving a trail of blood.

        Leaving a trail of teardrops.

        tin bell vines

        rembling on the roofs.

        A tal tambourines

        struck at t.

        Green,    you green,

        green wind, green branches.

        two friends climbed up.

        tiff

        in traaste

        of bile, of mint, and of basil

        My friend, well me--

        wter girl?

        imes sed for you!

        imes would s for you,

        cool face, black hair,

        on this green baly!

        Over tern

        the gypsy girl was swinging,

        green flesh, her hair green,

        h eyes of cold silver.

        An icioon

        er.

        t became intimate

        like a little plaza.

        Drunken "Guardias Civiles"

        he door.

        Green,    you green.

        Green wind. Green branches.

        t on the sea.

        And tain.
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