At Algeciras
28/09/2008Each time when showing up to Seville from my hometown, I feel a kind of nostalgy. Probably it’s ‘cos there’s something that one cannot describe with mere words. It was Yeats the one who could explain better during his Southern Spain trip at the beginning of the twentieth century.
At Algeciras,
A Meditaton Upon Death AnalysisThe heron-billed pale cattle-birds
That feed on some foul parasite
Of the Moroccan flocks and herds
Cross the narrow Straits to light
In the rich midnight of the garden trees
Till the dawn break upon those mingled seas.
……………
Greater glory in the Sun,
An evening chill upon the air,
Bid imagination run
Much on the Great Questioner;
What He can question, what if questioned I
Can with a fitting confidence reply.
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