‘En nuestras macetas ya no crecerán las rosas campesinas, regionales. En nuestras macetas crecerán las rosas de los vientos, oceánicas, universales. Solamente.’

- El Primer Manifiesto de la Rosa de los Vientos, Febrero 1928

The Wind Rose

I know not why, but I know she's a she, Eternal woman, wind rose without leaf. To ships and men she listens when they speak, And rules her choir the old voices of the sea.

Desde Valpo hasta Cádiz hermana, a nuestra Rosa canto yo, Por soleá bajo la luna, hermana, Por alegrías con el sol.

In the milky moonlight Buoyed that boat on the water and waves. I stood on the shingle And waited for day, As she fell from the cliffs  And sang deep in the caves, Her lonely hymn. To cirrus skies The lighthouse cried Farewell, goodbye, With night unwritten yet.

Desde Valpo hasta Cádiz hermana, a nuestra Rosa canto yo, Por soleá bajo la luna, hermana, Por alegrías con el sol.

I dreamed alone of her, And climbed aboard, With the island poets For rumoured shores, And saw the bell towers Fold and fade to nothing.

 But the spinnaker sighed at Her stubborn will, Her storm-like mind, Fathoms deep and dark as Vaults of the sea, I saw them cast a rose out to the breeze.

As the wind moves the water, In the chalice of a rose.