My Beloved Poet

Touched by God's light Born in Granada. Federico used to presume to be born beside the Alhambra. Bright mind, deep heart, a soul to be admired. Between lines, he used to be lost, a pen was his best friend. Dalí was a mate, both near from chilhood. His friends were many, but his real ones never too close. He was a shadow facing the light, but a light in the shades. Federico was born in Granada, his beloved land. He projected his art with a pen, nobody could understand. Artist he was born, playing the piano he used to play music for ears, but at writing he used to be the best. Born at a wrong time, Lorca was misunderstood. Difficult to understand how life mistreated it him. Born as a poet that will never be forgotten. Writing line to line, he was killed, young as he was, he had no time to write the best line of his life. Federico García Lorca, the one I will always bow for.