Your poet thinks of you. Distance is of lemon and violet, the fields still green. Come with me, Guiomar. The sierra will absorb us. The day is wearing out from oak to oak. [...] now the sea and infinity. We go together. We are free. although a God, like the fierce king in the tale, mounts the best steed of the wind, although he swears his vengeance on us violently, although he saddles thought, our love is free, no one stops us.