Post by David Proud

'Ode To Salvador Dali' by Federico García Lorca (5 June 1898 – 19 August 1936) A rose in the high garden you desire. A wheel in the pure syntax of steel. The mountain stripped bare of Impressionist fog, The grays watching over the last balustrades. The modern painters in their white ateliers clip the square root's sterilized flower. In the waters of the Seine a marble iceberg chills the windows and scatters the ivy. Man treads firmly on the cobbled streets. Crystals hide from the magic of reflections. The Government has closed the perfume stores. The machine perpetuates its binary beat. An absence of forests and screens and brows roams across the roofs of the old houses. The air polishes its prism on the sea and the horizon rises like a great aqueduct. Soldiers who know no wine and no penumbra behead the sirens on the seas of lead. Night, black statue of prudence, holds the moon's round mirror in her hand. A desire for forms and limits overwhelms us. Here comes the man who sees with a yellow ruler. Venus is a white still life and the butterfly collectors run away. * (Continued in the comments).... * #FedericoGarcíaLorca #SalvadorDali ['Landscape with Butterflies', 1956, Salvador Dalí]:-