Chapter 6 Andalusian Elegy 6

Dressed in mourning, with a Nazarene beard and my narrow-brimmed hat, I must have looked grotesque, riding on Bella's soft gray back. On the way to the vineyards, I crossed the last few streets, shining with the whitewashed walls and the sun, and the gypsy children ran after us, disheveled and oily, through their red and green and yellow rags, Showing off a taut brown belly.They uttered a long hiss: "That madman! That madman! That madman!" The green fields are spread before our eyes.Facing this vast, pure, burning indigo sky, my eyes—far from ear reach—open reverently, and into their calm is nameless stillness, the composure of divine peace that dwells in the infinity of the horizon. .

In the orchard on the high ground in the distance, there are still a few sharp shouts remaining, completely wrapped, intermittent, dull panting: "That lunatic! That lunatic!" (It is difficult for the same adjective to have the expressive effect of the original text in the translation.)