Romancillo De Mayo

Finally May brought correhuelas and basil to the entrance of the village and to the threshold of the windows. Upon seeing it arrive, the guitars have adorned themselves with love ribbons, the tuning pegs with jealousy, the strings with anger ties, and they impatiently neigh to go out serenading. In the warm stables where love smells like straw, like honest manure and milk, there is a noise of cows falling in love alone, chewing and bellowing alone. The goat changes its coat, the sheep changes its wool, the wolf changes its color, and the grass changes its roots. The intentions are different, and the words are different on the foreheads and tongues of early youth. The donkeys sigh strongly for the she-donkeys.
With moon and birds, the nights are pure glass; the afternoons, pure green, pure blue, emeralds; pure silver, the dawns seem purely white, and the mornings are pure honey and pure gold. Loving May reigns; love wanders around flocks, around stables and shepherds, around doors, around beds, around girls in the dance, and skirts flutter in the air...