Ay, Soledad

Naked boys were going,
oh, solitude of the moon,
to bullfight by the river
hungers for sleep and fortune.
He plants his feet in front of the bull
and he stays alone and is a sculpture,
and that naked beauty
temper, stop and command through the early morning,
that the pulse of the wrists
gives more value to his dry mouth.

The moon arrives and stops him
what a sight,
then, commanding, he tempers it,
and the countryside that contemplates him
invents
silences of the bullring.
And in this seeing and not seeing
the moon on the horizon
already knows that it is Juan Belmonte
who is loading the luck, who is
who is loading the luck.

They were the dark years
and the nightfall of a life
your name is in bullfighting,
you won the game.
Alone he is again,
countryside, earth, and sky, just like that day
and he locks a bull in the arena,
temper, stop and command, the moon is not there,
oh if the moon were there
solitude is a bad companion.

Death arrives and stops him,
what a sight,
then, commanding, he tempers it,
and the countryside that contemplates him
invents
silences of the bullring.
And in this seeing and not seeing
a dove breaks its flight
and that gun sounds
that is loading your death, that is
that is loading your death.