The streets
Are alive
And their life-blood
Is the steady ebb of
A people that speaks
Every language

Cars' engines and the
Beat of horse hooves
Mix on this street

By the cathedral are trees
And shade
Songbirds of every variety
fill the plaça, crammed
into wooden cages

Men from distant countries sell great
Pieces, like sails, of cloth
They extol every piece to the
Beautiful Spanish women

Here, while the priests say the mass inside
The tango draws its spectators outside
(And his lips are
closer to her neck
than the dance demands)

A statue that is really a woman
Gives me a pendant
with the virgin Mary
Stamped on it

The gypsy women beg,
Their voices silver like flutes,
Their hands fluttering gently
Down my arms like feathers

In Gaudi's park there are
A thousand colors
(And a thousand art students with
sketch books, dreaming of their
own exhibitions)

A handsome guitarist nods at me

The city never sleeps
(only half-awake myself,
I compare it to the gentille English
Village I call home
And laugh)

I'm thinking of you, my love
And I seem to feel your kisses
-Tender, sweet, strong kisses! -
Where my heart is breath catches as if
you were there

In the Sagrada Familia
White stone curves upwards
And contrasts with bright blue sky
Where the roof has not been finished

(I think this is a glimpse of
what heaven could be like)

I tried to write you a letter, love
Early, later
I ripped my attempts

Only a poem could explain it