Federico Garcia Lorca
Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint
Never let me lose the marvel Of your statue-like eyes, or the accent The solitary rose of your breath Places on my cheek at night. I am afraid of being, on this shore, A
Little Viennese Waltz
In Vienna there are ten little girls, A shoulder for death to cry on, And a forest of dried pigeons. There is a fragment of tomorrow In the museum of winter frost. There is
Ballad of the Moon
The moon came into the forge In her bustle of flowering nard. The little boy stares at her, stares. The boy is staring hard. In the shaken air The moon moves her amrs, And
La Guitarra
Empieza el llanto De la guitarra. Se rompen las copas De la madrugada. Empieza el llanto De la guitarra. Es inъtil Callarla. Es imposible Callarla. Llora monуtona Como llora el agua, Como llora el
Gacela of the Dead Child
Each afternoon in Granada, Each afternoon, a child dies. Each afternoon the water sits down And chats with its companions. The dead wear mossy wings. The cloudy wind and the clear wind Are two
Train Ride
After rain, through afterglow, the unfolding fan Of railway landscape sidled onthe pivot Of a larger arc into the green of evening; I remembered that noon I saw a gradual bud Still white; though
The Gypsy and the Wind
Playing her parchment moon Precosia comes Along a watery path of laurels and crystal lights. The starless silence, fleeing From her rhythmic tambourine, Falls where the sea whips and sings, His night filled with
Saturday Paseo: Adelina
Oranges Do not grow in the sea Neither is there love in Sevilla. You in Dark and the I the sun that’s hot, Loan me your parasol. I’ll wear my jealous reflection, Juice of
La Casada Infiel
Y que yo me la llevй al rнo Creyendo que era mozuela, Pero tenнa marido. Fue la noche de Santiago Y casi por compromiso. Se apagaron los faroles Y se encendieron los grillos. En
Weeping
Weeping, I go down the street Grotesque, without solution With the sadness of Cyrano And Quixote. Redeeming Infinite impossiblities With the rhythm of the clock. (The captive voice, far away. Put on a cricket’
Paisaje
El campo De olivos Se abre y se cierra Como un abanico. Sobre el olivar Hay un cielo hundido Y una lluvia oscura De luceros frнos. Tiembla junco y penumbra A la orilla del
Gacela of the Dark Death
I want to sleep the dream of the apples, To withdraw from the tumult of cemetries. I want to sleep the dream of that child Who wanted to cut his heart on the high
Adivinanza De La Guitarra
En la redonda Encrucijada, Seis doncellas Bailan. Tres de carne Y tres de plata. Los sueсos de ayer las buscan Pero las tiene abrazadas Un Polifemo de oro. ЎLa guitarra!
Romance De La Luna
La luna vino a la fragua Con su polisуn de nardos. El niсo la mira mira. El niсo la estб mirando. En el aire conmovido Mueve la luna sus brazos Y enseсa, lъbrica y
Lament For Ignacio Sanchez Mejias
1. Cogida and death At five in the afternoon. It was exactly five in the afternoon. A boy brought the white sheet At five in the afternoon. A frail of lime ready prepared At
The Weeping
I have shut my windows. I do not want to hear the weeping. But from behind the grey walls. Nothing is heard but the weeping. There are few angels that sing. There are few
Balada Amarilla IV
Sobre el cielo De las margaritas ando. Yo imagino esta tarde Que soy santo. Me pusieron la luna En las manos. Yo la puse otra vez En los espacios Y el Seсor me premiу
Romance Sonбmbulo
Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea And the horse on the mountain. With the shade around her waist She dreams on her balcony, Green
The Faithless Wife
So I took her to the river Believing she was a maiden, But she already had a husband. It was on St. James night And almost as if I was obliged to. The lanterns
Before the Dawn
But like love The archers Are blind Upon the green night, The piercing saetas Leave traces of warm Lily. The keel of the moon Breaks through purple clouds And their quivers Fill with dew.
Serenata
The night soaks itself Along the shore of the river And in Lolita’s breasts The branches die of love. The branches die of love. Naked the night sings Above the bridges of March. Lolita
The Little Mute Boy
The litle boy was looking for his voice. (The King of the crickets had it.) In a drop of water The little boy was looking for his voice. I do not want it for
Fare Well
If I die, Leave the balcony open. The little boy is eating oranges. (From my balcony I can see him.) The reaper is harvesting the wheat. (From my balcony I can hear him.) If
Soneto
Largo espectro de plata conmovida El viento de la noche suspirando, Abriу con mano gris mi vieja herida Y se alejу: yo estaba deseando. Llaga de amor que me darб la vida Perpetua sangre
Muriу Al Amanecer
Noche de cuatro lunas Y un solo бrbol, Con una sola sombra Y un solo pбjaro. Busco en mi carne las Huellas de tus labios. El manantial besa al viento Sin tocarlo. Llevo el
Gacela of Unforseen Love
No one understood the perfume Of the dark magnolia of your womb. Nobody knew that you tormented A hummingbird of love between your teeth. A thousand Persian little horses fell asleep In the plaza
Arbolй, Arbolй
Tree, tree Dry and green. The girl with the pretty face Is out picking olives. The wind, playboy of towers, Grabs her around the waist. Four riders passed by On Andalusian ponies, With blue
Landscape of a Vomiting Multitude
The fat lady came out first, Tearing out roots and moistening drumskins. The fat lady Who turns dying octopuses inside out. The fat lady, the moon’s antagonist, Was running through the streets and deserted
City That Does Not Sleep
In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins. The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do
Ditty of First Desire
In the green morning I wanted to be a heart. A heart. And in the ripe evening I wanted to be a nightingale. A nightingale. (Soul, Turn orange-colored. Soul, Turn the color of love.)
Landscape of a Pissing Multitude
The men kept to themselves: They were waiting for the swiftness of the last cyclists. The women kept to themselves: They were expecting the death of a boy on a Japanese schooner. They all
Preciosa Y El Aire
Su luna de pergamino Preciosa tocando viene Por un anfibio sendero De cristales y laureles. El silencio sin estrellas, Huyendo del sonsonete, Cae donde el mar bate y canta Su noche llena de peces.
Muerte De Antoсito El Camborio
Voces de muerte sonaron Cerca del Guadalquivir. Voces antiguas que cercan Voz de clavel varonil. Les clavу sobre las botas Mordiscos de jabalн. En la lucha daba saltos Jabonados de delfнn. Baсo con sangre
Nocturnos De La Ventana
1 Alta va la luna. Bajo corre el viento. (Mis largas miradas, Exploran el cielo.) Luna sobre el agua, Luna bajo el viento. (Mis cortas miradas, Exploran el suelo.) Las voces de dos niсas