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cementerio @ 2010-06-27T10: 35:00

Antonio Machado (born Antonio Machado Ruiz, 26 July 1875,

Seville - February 22, 1939, Collioure Collioure, Dep. Eastern Pyrenees, France) -
English poet of a generation in 1898, playwright, thinker and essayist. ;
                                                              
In 1939, Machado was forced to leave the country,
January 28 he, along with a crowd of refugees on foot crossed the English-French border,
and less than a month died.

Machado developed a distinctive variant of philosophy, partly close to existentialism (Unamuno existentialism rather than Heidegger), and outlined in its anti-dogmatic form of constant interviews peresprashivaniya and doubt.
not difficult to imagine what he felt, Antonio Machado, mourning Lorca, considering that the place of execution (which were all confident), Lorca did not find anything, really:
"Uncertainty, insecurity, mistrust and, behold, perhaps, our only true "

returns to the same; can not be formulated until the end,
but greatly confuses me is the story.

Antonio Machado-and-Ruiz
(Antonio Machado-i-Ruis)
CRIME WAS IN GRANADA ...
(On the death of Federico Garcia Lorca)

I
CRIME

the street long he was under police escort,
glimmer barely,
cold was in the field,
star freezed.

slightly brightened the sky,
and Federico was killed.
executioners cowards
and were indifferent.
'Yes, do not help thee Almighty! " -
whispering and looks away.
Dead fell Federico ...
human blood stained, the body became cool.

crime was in Granada ... in his Granada!
Do you know Granada? ..

II
POET AND DEATH

As long street he walked to death nearby.
Spit is cool, but not terrible cold.
Federico said: 'You see,
the sun play towers,
and with the anvil - the hammer '.
listened to death as a bride.
And he told her: 'Your hands
beat beat off in my Ballads,
thy sickle - in a silver jingle
my tragedies. I will always glorify
look in your eyes blind,
disembodied lightness of body
and your lips - in my hot ...
O Death! About gypsy my tunes!
like the wind, your hair strands.
We are well under the Granada sky,
in our Granada in Granada, my! "

III

He went down the street a long ... Build it, live,
gravestone of sleep and stone fountains
among the Alhambra.
and jet draw on the water surface
non-drying tears:
'crime was in Granada ... in his Granada! "