I'm disappointed Iran is out of the World Cup

[rpannier]

Last night I went to the game and had a chance to talk to several of the Iranian fans before the game -- they said he stole the election

7 Iranian players (their Captain, and four other starters, including their goal keeper) wore a green wrist band in solidarity with the protesters.

After half-time they weren't wearing them.
Apparently, they were ordered by their Federation to take them off -- Gotta love the Democratic principles being espoused by the theocrats

[Xipe Totec]

1. Green, how I want you green.

Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With the shade around her waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon,
all things are watching her
and she cannot see them.

Green, how I want you green.
Big hoarfrost stars
come with the fish of shadow
that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs its wind
with the sandpaper of its branches,
and the forest, cunning cat,
bristles its brittle fibers.
But who will come? And from where?
She is still on her balcony
green flesh, her hair green,
dreaming of the bitter sea.

--My friend, I want to trade
my horse for her house,
my saddle for her mirror,
my knife for her blanket.
My friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabra.
--If it were possible, my boy,
I'd help you fix that trade.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--My friend, I want to die
decently in my bed.
Of iron, if that's possible,
with blankets of fine chambray.
Don't you see the wound I have
from my chest up to my throat?
--Your white shirt has grown
Thirty dark brown roses.
Your blood oozes and flees a
round the corners of your sash.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--Let me climb up, at least,
up to the high balconies;
Let me climb up! Let me,
up to the green balconies.
Railings of the moon
through which the water rumbles.


- Federico Garcia Lorca (1898 – 1936)

Murdered by the Nationalist at the begining of the Spanish Civil War.

[obliviously]

2. Not bad

but I formed this picture of a female grinch that stole christmas in my head. With all the gren hair and green flesh. Just sayin.

[Xipe Totec]

3. I apologize for my poor translation

Green is the symbol of youth, eternity...

Poetry is notoriously difficult to translate.

[obliviously]

4. No no! you did just fine.

It was a beautiful poem. My head puts together some strange pictures sometimes. I enjoyed it!