Duende.

Another of my favorite words that cannot be translated, and possibly not even definable.  At times I've tried, but I get so emotionally caught up in trying to explain in completeness its full meaning... ach, it's better left to experience.  I usually end up holding my right hand pressed against my own chest with my eyebrows in full furrow, the left hand held out tensely in an all at once apology/get it?/feel it?/pain gesture.

Silly, right? 

Here we go, Day 74: https://ia600706.us.archive.org/19/items/Improv102711/10_27_117_28Pm.mp3

Every song                                          Cada canción
is the remains                                      es un remanso
of love.                                                 del amor.

Every light                                           Cada lucero,
the remains                                          un remanso
of time.                                                 del tiempo.
A knot                                                  Un nudo
of time.                                                 del tiempo.

And every sigh                                     Y cada suspiro
the remains                                          un remanso
of a cry.                                                del grito. 

-Federico Garcia Lorca