After an image in 'A Body Lain Out' by Lorca ~

The summer in a foreign dusk.
Close heat that grows everywhere
From the skin, breathed.
A balmy silence towards the lain loved one -
Alive in degradation!
The smell of seas emptying
It's cold shoals on the sense -
History gathers at last to rest
On pebbles, red stone as warm as a heart,
Whispering grasses -
The shudders of the mourning.