City That Does Not Sleep

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    <strong>City That Does Not Sleep</strong>

    In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody.

    Nobody is asleep.

    The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their s.

    The living iguanas will e and bite the men who do not dream,

    and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the

    street er

    the unbelievable alligator quiet beh the tender protest of the

    stars.

    Nobody is asleep oh. Nobody, nobody.

    Nobody is asleep.

    In a graveyard far off there is a corpse

    who has moaned for three years

    because of a dry tryside on his knee;

    and that boy they buried this m cried so much

    it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.

    Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful!

    We fall dowairs in order to eat the moist earth

    or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead

    dahlias.

    But fetfulness does , dreams do ;

    flesh ex.9９ｌib?s. Kisses tie our mouths

    in a thicket of new veins,

    and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever

    and whoever is a<cite></cite>fraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.

    One day

    the horses will live in the saloons

    and the enraged ants

    will throw them>?9９ｌib?</a>selves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the

    eyes of cows.

    Another day

    we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead

    and still walking through a try of gray sponges and silent boats

    we will watch  flash and roses spring from our tongue.

    Careful! Be careful! Be careful!

    The men who still have marks of the claw and the thuorm,

    and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the iion

    of the bridge,

    or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe,

    we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes

    are waiting,

    where the bears teeth are waiting,

    where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting,

    and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder.

    Nobody is sleeping in the sky. Nobody, nobody.

    Nobody is sleeping.

    If someone does close his eyes,

    a whip, boys, a whip!

    Let there be a landscape of open eyes

    and bitter wounds on fire.

    No one is sleeping in this world. No one, no one.<dfn>..</dfn>

    I have said it before.

    No one is sleeping.

    But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the

    night,

    opeage trapdoors so he  see in th..e moonlight

    the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the theaters.

    <strong>Federico García Lorca</strong>

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