| ...... was mid July. It was a beautiful day. I, alone, the stony ground by bankruptcies up, looking shadow bends slowly. At intervals I paused to wipe my brow and give some respite to the chest heaving, or, grievously step body forward and towards the right hand up and leaning on a cane , by way of pastoral staff, climbed the hills to live birds of prey high, trampling the grass Rangers strong-smelling rosemary, thyme, sage, lavender. On the citrus fields fell blazing sun. ...... A hawk with broad wings with a majestic solo flight crossed the pure blue sky. I could see, far, a high mountain, sharp and a round mound which embroidered coat, and blue hillsides on the brown earth scattered -rags of an old war-harness, the bald Serrezuela where Duero twists to form the crooked bow of an archer about Soria. -Soria is a barbican, to Aragon, which has the English tower. saw the horizon darkened closed by hills crowned with oak and oak; bare crags, some humble meadow where the merino pace and the bull, kneeling on the grass , rumination, the banks of river show off their green poplars to clear summer sun, and silently, far passengers so tiny! -Cars, horse and mule drivers, " cross the long bridge, and under the stone arches darken the silvery waters del Duero. ...... The Duero crosses the heart of oak and Iberia Castilla. ...... ...... ...... Oh, sad and noble land, of the high plains and barren and rocky, without plows fields, groves and rivulets, crumbling cities, roads with inns, | and astonished rustics without dances and songs are still , leaving the dull home, as your long rivers, Castile, to the sea! ...... Castilla miserable, dominating yesterday, wrapped in her rags despises it ignores. Wait, sleeping or dreaming? Does Gore remember, when he had the fever of the sword? Everything is moving, flowing, running, running, or tour; change the sea and the mountains and the eye that sees them. Did ? About the ghost fields still stiff of a people who put God on the war. ...... mother once fertile captains, stepmother is now just humble drudges. Castilla is not so generous that one day, when Myo Cid Rodrigo de Vivar the back, proud of his new wealth, and opulence, to give to the orchards of Valencia Alfonso; or after the adventure accredited their brightness, called for the conquest of the Indians immense rivers to the court, the mother of soldiers, warriors and leaders have to turn, charged silver and gold to Spain, royal galleons, for prey crows for the fight lions. Philosophers convent soup nourished idly contemplate the vast firmament; and if they come in dreams, like a distant rumor, spring clamor of merchants from the Levant, not come even ask what happens? And the war has opened the doors of your home. ...... Castilla miserable, dominating yesterday, wrapped in her rags despises it ignores. ...... The sun is declining. distant city I get a harmonious sound of bell -and go to their bereaved old Rosary. Among the rocks out two pretty weasels; look at me and away, run, and appear again, so curious! ... The fields are obscured. By the way target is the inn open the darkened field and the stony desert. |
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