Rider’s Song

Córdoba.
Far away and alone.

Black pony, big moon,
and olives in my saddle-bag.
Although I know the roads
I’ll never reach Córdoba.

Through the plain, through the wind,
black pony, red moon.
Death is looking at me
from the towers of Córdoba.

Ay! How long the road!
Ay! My valiant pony!
Ay! That death should wait me
before I reach Córdoba.

Córdoba.
Far away and alone.

—

Tr. Stephen Spender and J.L. Gili