Arte en Casa Boletas

Enter the village of Loporzano with care, Watch fot the stork on the church, she’ll protect you, They say there’s an owl living, In the bell tower that hunts, Your dreams at night like a ghost. Turn right then left stop, The woodpecker knocks on the door. Now pay attention, There’s a woman with a biblical name and far away eyes, Who is a true inn keeper, She’ll keep you in her house with a warming smile, And hot coffee and, If you’ re lucky she’ll feed you boletas, And hand beaten aioli. She understands the true art of listening, Which is a greater gift than talking. In the library is a girl who reads books. Take care: she knows all about subtle interventions. Once a week she takes the fast train to the capital, To even deepen her knowledge. And yes there’s a man. He does the talking, His gestures as quick as his observing blue eyes. He’s an expert on ruins in the bend of the road (Watch out for Little Bustards!), From Bujalaroz to Candasnos. He can tell a Crested from a Thekla’s. One day you might meet him before sunrise, At El Planeron de Belchite, He’ll show you the secretive Dupont’s Lark, And disappear again. And finally there’s a cat. Keep your bedroom door shut because she wants, To sleep with you. All the stray cats in the village want, Her love but it’s you she prefers. Leave the house early in the morning, When the quails call, Quit quit quick, When the nightingale still sings in the garden, And the sparrows gossip in the pines. Follow the giant yellow finger, In the back yard and whisper, That you will come back some day, Some other May.