Granada would awake each morning with bells
and cries of vendors in the streets:
I have oranges, papayas, jocotes,
watermelons, musk melons, zapotes!
— Who wants to buy?
and water vendors with their casks crying out:
Waaaaaaaater, waaaater, waaaater!
All day long that cry of water would cool the streets
and there were stands with drinks of all colors in the streets
— some stands they call canteens there —
and processions of girls would come from the lake with their jars
and in the lake half-naked washerwomen washed laundry singing,
while men would be watering or bathing their horses.
And you’d hear the Salve Regina being sung through the evenings
and the air was so pure then you could hear
all the conversations of people in their doorways
and the clear serenades from afar;
and at night wet frogs used to sing in the courtyard,
or a young woman’s voice behind adobe walls,
and we went to bed listening to the trickle from the clay tiles in the wet
courtyard
and our thoughts would be getting mixed up
and the long rows of street lamps were put out one after the other,
until the next day with bells again and the cries of water.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 