Orange blossoms blowing over Castile
Children begging for coins

I met my love under an orange tree
Or was it an acacia tree
Or was he not my love?

I read this, then I dreamed this:
Can waking take back what happened to me?
Bells of San Miguel
Ringing in the distance
His hair in the shadows blond-white

I dreamed this,
Does that mean it didn’t happen?
Does it have to happen in the world to be real?

I dreamed everything, the story
Became my story:

He lay beside me,
My hand grazed the skin of his shoulder

Mid-day, then early evening:
In the distance, the sound of a train

But it was not the world:
In the world, a thing happens finally, absolutely,
The mind cannot reverse it.

Castile: nuns walking in pairs through the dark garden.
Outside the walls of the Holy Angels
Children begging for coins

When I woke I was crying,
Has that no reality?

I met my love under an orange tree:
I have forgotten
Only the facts, not the inference-
There were children, somewhere, crying, begging for coins

I dreamed everything, I gave myself
Completely and for all time

And the train returned us
First to Madrid
Then to the Basque country

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