Woodcutter.
Cut my shadow from me.
Free me from the torment
of being without fruit.
Why was I born among mirrors?
Day goes round and round me.
The night copies me
in all its stars.
I want to live without my reflection.
And then let me dream
that ants and thistledown
are my leaves and my parrots.
The Song Of The Barren Orange Tree
Federico Garca-a Lorca
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Poem topics: dream, night, reflection, shadow, fruit, live, Valentine's Day, torment, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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