The distant mountains emerge with soft reptilian undulations. The infinitely crystalline transparencies show everything in its matte splendor. The shady areas have night in their tangles and the city lazily sheds its veils, revealing its domes and ancient towers illuminated by a soft golden light.

The houses peek their empty-eyed faces through the greenery, and the grasses, poppies, and vine blossoms dance gracefully to the sound of the sun’s breeze.

The shadows are rising and fading languidly, while in the air there is a chirping of ocarinas and reed flutes by the birds.

In the distances there are indecisions of mist and heliotropes of poplars, and sometimes in the morning freshness a distant bleating in the key of F can be heard.

Through the valley of the Dauro, anointed with blue and dark green, fly peasant pigeons, very white and black, to stop on the poplars, or on clumps of yellow flowers.

The grave bells are still asleep, only some albayzinero shearling flutters naively next to a cypress.

The rushes, the reeds, and the fragrant ivy, are leaning towards the water to kiss the sun when you look into it…

The sun appears almost dull…, and at that moment the shadows rise and go…, the city is tinged with pale purple, the mountains become solid gold, and the trees take on gleams of Italian apotheosis.

And all the softness and pallidness of undecided blues change into splendid luminosities, and the ancient towers of the Alhambra are shining with red light…, the houses hurt with their whiteness and the shady areas become brilliant greens.

The sun of Andalusia begins to sing its song of fire that all things hear with awe.

The light is so marvelous and unique that the birds crossing the air are of rare metals, solid irises, and pink opals…

The fumes of the city begin to rise covering it with a heavy fire…, the sun shines and the sky, once pure and fresh, turns dirty white. A windmill begins its sleepy serenade… Some rooster crows remembering the morning sunrise, and the crazy cicadas of the vega play their violins to get drunk at noon…