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TOMÀS GARCÉS (1901-1993)

THE HUNTER (Translation by Sam Abrams)

The vineyard envies the greenness of chestnut trees,

the sea grows murky grey beneath the fog,

the partridge's brown-gold is toning down,

there are shows of dying tenderness in the air.

Summer is departing. And a weary hunter,

with the laconic crack of his rifle,

shatters to bits the sky's clear crystal

and upon the world heaven's flowers are showered.