So you want to feel the Spanish language, the poetry of Lorca, the city of Seville? Get yourself a mini Oxford Espanol-Ingles and an edition of Lorca's Poesia Completa, and get busy on Lorca's poem called "Sevilla".
I don't blame the mini Oxford or Lorca, but two minutes later I'd written that Seville is "a tower / full of crooked archers." Seville for "pain," Cordoba for "death," was how I translated Lorca's refrain. "Crazy with horizon" I rather liked but, in the end, I felt as if I'd taken the great Andalucian's immortal poem and doused it in Starbuck grande-sized incompetence.
No worries. Let's try a sinple "Song". Soon a "heart" is said, as I figured it, to be "winning the north," and the poor "north star" had been "beheaded." And in Lorca's "Dos Muchachas" I found "in a small olive grove / sings a German." My mistake. Sings a "sparrow."
There's always another poem. By now I was ready to embrace Lorca's "Song of Desperation" in which, as I had it, padres waited for Advent and boys "painted / their hearts green" somehow.
I'm not sure if the wine helps but I'll keep trying.