La Luz Está En El Sur

Rain of light
Falling from the pitchers of the sky
Rays of light
Climbing through the squares, through the streets,
Slices of light
Painted on the blue canvas of the air,
This is how it floods
With light in the south.

Light in the light
Of the sea, the marsh, and the mountains.
Red is the light
Of the drama and joy of the festival.
Light in the voice
Radiant clarity, of its poets,
Of Federico,
Of Juan Ramón.

The light is in the south,
The clarity spilled,
The salt, the geranium, and the rose.
Open, your body to the south
And stay close to the olive groves
Kissing my lips.

The light is in the south,
In a glass of "Fino Ideal"
That refreshes your lips.
Come with me, you
On a thoroughbred horse
Trotting through the white towns.