One evening in Spain

[bogpan]

Madrid in darkness
lit only by flashes from
Luftwaffe bombs.

On a downtown rooftop
refugees, poets, and painters
in fancy-dress
drink champagne, dance and sing
while around them
death rains.

What madness they share!
Pablo Neruda, César Vallejo,
Octavio Paz, even Siqueiros
the Mexican, in his shiny
cavalry boots.

What joy.

Really absolute joy! Perhaps it is too much of a narrative in this poem for my taste, but the final is brilliant. I hear in this poem the Spanish "Siguiriyas"!

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
‘What madness they share. What joy.’ - from 'The Years of Laura Diaz' - Carlos Fuentes

Really absolute joy! Perhaps it is too much of a narrative in this poem for my taste, but the final is brilliant. I hear in this poem the Spanish "Siguiriyas"! > ><