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Guadarrama, is it you, old friend,
mountains white and gray
that I used to see painted against the blue
those afternoons of the old days in Madrid?
Up your deep ravines
and past your bristling peaks
a thousand Guadarramas and a thousand suns
come riding with me, riding to your heart.


Translated by Alan S. Trueblood


Anonymous submission.

Added: 24 Feb 2003 | Last Read: 5 Sep 2008 4:47 PM | Viewed: 3358 times

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