Seville

Seville is a tower
full of fine bowmen.

Seville for wounds
Cordoba for death.

A city that snares
slow rhythms
and twists them
like labyrinths
like vine-shoots,
blazing.

Seville for wounds!

Beneath the sky’s arc,
over its clean plain,
the constant saeta
dart of the river.

Córdoba for death!

Mad with horizon,
it mixes in its wine
Don Juan’s bitterness
and the perfection of Dionysus.

Seville for wounds!
Always Seville for wounds!