Roja es mi sangre como la rosa (Red is my Blood like a Rose)

Juan Francisco Lozau

“Roja es mi sangre como la rosa” (Red is my Blood like a Rose)


C/Camino Viejo del Oriolet

A 2013 mural where a hand grasps a red rose and bleeds from the thorns. In the painting, the blood transform into drops of life.


Unceasing lightning
Final sonnet
For plucking the feathers from glacial archangels,
the snowfall, lilywhite and slender-toothed,
is condemned to the weeping of springs
and the despair of streams.

So it can diffuse its soul in metal,
so it can give iron its pearly brilliance,
fire is dragged by torrential blacksmiths
to the pain of intemperate anvils.

To the painful prick of the thorn,
to the fatal despondency of the rose
and to the corrosive action of death

I find myself thrown, and so much ruin
is for no other misfortune or reason
than for loving you and only for loving you.