  Oh Sevilla, Within your arms I dreamt, While a thousand stars lay above me And your night's air, Hot and sultry as a sin, Intoned your feverish call Like so many piercing needles. I dreamt of lying with him On this balcony under your stars On a morning just like this, Naked before your pinkening sky, Beyond the walls of la Giralda.
And Then in my dream the stony quiet Of your night became a stage, on which His love for me was born anew. And with each gentle sigh we floated As if we were two feathers blown Along your streets of ochre. White And blue azulejos drifted by us. The washerwomen with their baskets Lowered their eyes and smiled. Oh Sevilla, your red rose petals, soft as fallen tears, and a solitary guitar-song, were all you left for me when I awoke Alone, Sevilla, where I dreamt of him. 
