Sleep

I want to sleep the Dream of the apples,
to withdraw from the tumult of cemeteries.
I want to sleep the dream of that child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

I DON'T want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood,
that the putrid mouth goes on asking for water.
I DON'T want to learn of the tortures of the grass,
nor of the moon with a serpent's mouth
that labors before dawn.

I want to sleep awhile,
awhile, a minute, a century;
but all must know that I have not died;
that there is a stable of gold in my lips;
that I am the small friend of the West wing;
that I am the intense shadows of my tears.

Cover me at dawn with a veil,
because dawn will throw fistfuls of ants at me,
and wet with hard water my shoes
so that the pincers of the Scorpion slide.

For I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to learn a lament that will cleanse me to earth;
for I want to live with that dark child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

~ Federico García Lorca, Gacela of the Dark Death

Dedicated to my companion.

CREDITS
......................................................................................................

Textures: [link] by and [link] by

Background: [link] by

Apple: [link] by

Model: [link] by

Brushes: Tree [link] by , Ants [link] by , Nautical [link] by
......................................................................................................

Thank You!