▲The Poetry of Federico Garc赤a Lorca◎ Adivinanza De La Guitarra En la redonda encrucijada, seis doncellas bailan. tres de carne y tres de plata. Los sue?os de ayer las buscan pero las tiene abrazadas un Polifemo de oro. ?La guitarra! Arbol谷, Arbol谷 . . . Arbol谷, Arbol谷 . . . Englisranslation tree, tree dry and green. tty face is out picking olives. towers, grabs . Four riders passed by on Andalusian ponies, s and big, dark capes. quot;Come to Cordoba, muc; t listen to them. ters passed, slender in t, s the color of oranges and s silver. quot;Come to Sevilla, muc; t listen to them. ernoon urned dark brotered light, a young man passed by, wearing roses and myrtle of the moon. quot;Come to Granada, inuc; And t listen to him. tty face keeps on picking olives he wind wrapped around . tree, tree dry and green. Arbol谷, arbol谷, seco y verd赤. La ni?a del bello rostro est芍 cogiendo aceituna. El viento, gal芍n de torres, la prende por la cintura. Pasaron cuatro jinetes sobre jacas andaluzas, con trajes de azul y verde, con largas capas oscuras. quot;Vente a C車rdoba, muc; La ni?a no los escucha. Pasaron tres torerillos delgaditos de cintura, con trajes color naranja y espadas de plata antigua. quot;Vente a C車rdoba, muc; La ni?a no los escucha. Cuando la tarde se puso morada, con lux difusa, pas車 un joven que llevaba rosas y mirtos de luna. quot;Vente a Granada, muc; Y la ni?a no lo escucha. La ni?a del bello rostro sigue cogiendo aceituna, con el brazo gris del viento ce?ido por la cintura. Arbol谷, arbol谷. Seco y verd谷. 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 Se?or me premi車 con la rosa y el halo. Sobre el cielo de las margaritas ando. Y ahora voy por este campo a librar a las ni?as de galanes malos y dar monedas de oro a todos los muchachos. Sobre el cielo de las margaritas ando. Ballad of the Moon to the forge in le of flowering nard. ttle boy stares at ares. taring hard. In the shaken air the moon moves her amrs, and shows lubricious and pure, s of in. quot;Moon, moon, moon, run! If the gypsies come, t to make ; quot;Let me dance, my little one. he gypsies come, the anvil ight. quot;Moon, moon, moon, run! I can feel; quot;Let me be, my little one, dont step on me, all starce!quot; Closer comes the horseman, drumming on the plain. the forge; his eyes are closed. the olive grove come the gypsies, dream and bronze, their heads held high, their hooded eyes. O owl calls, calling, calling from its tree! the sky he hand. the forge, all ting, crying. the air is veiwing all, views all. t the viewing. Before the Dawn But like love the archers are blind Upon t, tas leave traces of warm lily. the moon breaks through purple clouds and their quivers fill h dew. Ay, but like love the archers are blind! City That Does Not Sleep In there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. tures of t their cabins. te t dream, and t broken on the street corner tor quiet beneatender protest of the stars. Nobody is asleep on earth. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. In a graveyard far off there is a corpse whree years because of a dry countryside on his knee; and t boy this morning cried so much it o call out to keep . Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful! e fall doairs in order to eat t earth or o the dead dahlias. But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist; fless. Kisses tie our mouths in a t of new veins, and w pain forever and w on his shoulders. One day the saloons and ts take refuge in the eyes of cows. Another day cterflies rise from the dead and still ry of gray sponges and silent boats congue. Careful! Be careful! Be careful! till orm, and t boy wion of the bridge, or t dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe, carry to the snakes are ing, ing, wing, and tands on end blue shudder. Nobody is sleeping in the sky. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is sleeping. If someone does close his eyes, a whip, boys, a whip! Let there be a landscape of open eyes and bitter wounds on fire. No one is sleeping in this world. No one, no one. I before. No one is sleeping. But if someone grooo mucemples during the night, open tage trapdoors so ts, and ters. Ditty of First Desire In the green morning I ed to be a . A . And in the ripe evening I ed to be a nightingale. A nightingale. (Soul, turn orange-colored. Soul, turn the color of love.) In the vivid morning I ed to be myself. A . And at the evenings end I ed to be my voice. A nightingale. Soul, turn orange-colored. Soul, turn the color of love. El Balc車n Si muero Dejad el balc車n abierto El ni?o come naranjas (Desde mi balc車n lo veo) El segador siega el trigo (Desde mi balc車n lo siento) Si muero Dejad el balc車n abierto Fare Well If I die, leave the balcony open. ttle boy is eating oranges. (From my balcony I can see him.) ting t. (From my balcony I can hear him.) If I die, leave the balcony open! Gacela of the Dark Death I to sleep the apples, to umult of cemetries. I to sleep t child o cut on the high seas. I dont to t lose their blood, t trid mouter. I dont to learn of tortures of the grass, nor of ts mouth t labors before dawn. I to sleep awhile, aury; but all must kno I died; t table of gold in my lips; t I am t wing; t I am tense sears. Cover me at dah a veil, because dafuls of ants at me, and er my shoes so t the scorpion slide. For I to sleep the apples, to learn a lament t o earth; for I to live dark child o cut on the high seas. Gacela of the Dead Child Eacernoon in Granada, eacernoon, a child dies. Eacernoon ter sits down and cs s companions. the dead wear mossy wings. the clear wind are two ps in fligowers, and the day is a wounded boy. Not a flicker of lark in the air he caverns of wine. Not t in the ground whe river. A giant of er fell dohe hills, and tumbling h lilies and dogs. In my shadow, your body, dead on the bank, was an angel of coldness. Gacela of Unforseen Love No one understood the perfume of the dark magnolia of your womb. Nobody kne you tormented a eeth. A ttle horses fell asleep in th moon of your forehead, ws I embraced your , enemy of the snow. Beter and jasmins, your glance was a pale branch of seeds. I soug to give you tters t say quot;siemprequot;, quot;siemprequot;, quot;siemprequot; : garden of my agony, your body elusive always, t blood of your veins in my mouth, your moutless for my death. La Casada Infiel Y que yo me la llevamp;eacute; al ramp;iacute;o creyendo que era mozuela, pero tenamp;iacute;a marido. Fue la nociago y casi por compromiso. Se apagaron los faroles y se encendieron los grillos. En las amp;uacute;ltimas esquinas toquamp;eacute; sus pechos dormidos, y se me abrieron de pronto como ramos de jacintos.. El almidamp;oacute;n de su enagua me sonaba en el oamp;iacute;do, como una pieza de seda rasgada por diez cuchillos. Sin luz de plata en sus copas los amp;aacute;rboles han crecido, y un e de perros ladra muy lejos del ramp;iacute;o. Pasadas la zarzamoras, los juncos y los espinos, bajo su mata de pelo hice un hoyo sobre el limo. Yo me quitamp;eacute; la corbata. Ella se quitamp;oacute; el vestido. Yo el cinturamp;oacute;n de revamp;oacute;lver. Ella sus cuatro corpiamp;ntilde;os. Ni nardos ni caracolas tienen el cutis tan fino, ni los critales con luna relumbran con ese brillo. Sus muslos se me escapaban como peces sorprendidos, la mitad llenos de lumbre, la mitad llenos de framp;iacute;o. Aquella noce; el mejor de los caminos, montado en potra de namp;aacute;car sin bridas y sin estribos. No quiero decir, por hombre, las cosas que ella me dijo. La luz del entendimiento me hace ser muy comedido. Sucia de besos y arena yo me la llevamp;eacute; al ramp;iacute;o. Con el aire se batamp;iacute;an las espadas de los lirios. Me portamp;eacute; como quien soy. Como un gitano legamp;iacute;timo. La regalamp;eacute; un costurero grande de raso pajizo, y no quise enamorarme porque teniendo marido me dijo que era mozuela cuando la llevaba al ramp;iacute;o. Lament for Ignacio S芍nchez Mej赤as At five in ternoon. It ly five in ternoon. A boy brouge s at five in ternoon. A frail of lime ready prepared at five in ternoon. t h alone. ttonwool at five in ternoon. And ttered crystal and nickel at five in ternoon. Nole at five in ternoon. And a ted horn at five in ternoon. tring struck up at five in ternoon. Arsenic bells and smoke at five in ternoon. Groups of silence in the corners at five in ternoon. And t! At five in ternoon. of snow was coming at five in ternoon, wh iodine at five in ternoon. Deathe wound at five in ternoon. At five in ternoon. At five oclock in ternoon. A coffin on wheels is his bed at five in ternoon. Bones and flutes resound in his ears at five in ternoon. Nohrough his forehead at five in ternoon. t h agony at five in ternoon. In tance the gangrene now comes at five in ternoon. hrough green groins at five in ternoon. the wounds were burning like suns at five in ternoon. At five in ternoon. A fatal five in ternoon! It he clocks! It ernoon! I see it! tell to come, for I do not to see the blood of Ignacio on the sand. I see it! the moon wide open. ill clouds, and the grey bull ring of dreams he barreras. I see it! Let my memory kindle! arm the jasmines of suce weness! I see it! t world passed ongue over a snout of blood spilled on the sand, and the bulls of Guisando, partly deatly stone, bellouries sated h. No. I see it! Ignacio goes up tiers h on his shoulders. for the dawn but the dawn was no more. profile and the dream bewilders him for iful body and encountered his opened blood Do not ask me to see it! I do not to spurt eacime rength: t spurt t illuminates tiers of seats, and spills over ther of a ty multiude. s t I should come near! Do not ask me to see it! close whe horns near, but terrible mothers lifted their heads. And across the ranches, an air of secret voices rose, sing to celestial bulls, . there was no prince in Sevilla wo him, nor sword like his sword nor so true. Like a river of lions h, and like a marble toroso ion. the air of Andalusian Rome gilded his head where his smile was a spikenard of and intelligence. a great torero in the ring! a good peasant in the sierra! le he sheaves! he spurs! ender he dew! a! remendous he final banderillas of darkness! But now end. Nohe grass open h sure fingers the flower of his skull. And now singing; singing along marshes and meadows, sliden on frozen horns, faltering soulles in t stoumbling over a thousand hoofs like a long, dark, sad tongue, to form a pool of agony close to tarry Guadalquivir. Oe wall of Spain! Oh, black bull of sorrow! Oh, hard blood of Ignacio! Oingale of his veins! No. I see it! No cain it, no s, no frost of lig, nor song nor deluge og we lilies, no glass can cover mit h silver. No. I see it! Stone is a forehead where dreames grieve curving ers and frozen cypresses. Stone is a so bear time rees formed of tears and ribbons and planets. I ohe waves raising tender riddle arms, to avoid being caugone heir blood. For stone gathers seed and clouds, skeleton larks and wolves of penumbra: but yields not sounds nor crystals nor fire, only bull rings and bull rings and more bull rings walls. Noone. All is finis is emplate his face: death pale sulphur and aur. All is finisrates h. t, and Love, soaked tears of snow, self on the herd. is tenctles down. e are which fades away, ingales and being filled hless holes. true! Nobody sings he corner, nobody pricks terrifies t. not the round eyes to see a c. to see those men of hard voice. t break e rivers; ton who sing . to see tone. Before th broken reins. I to kno for tain stripped doh. I to s like a river s and deep shores, to take t looses itself ing of the bulls. Loses itself in the moon bull, loses itself in t song of fishes and in te t of frozen smoke. I dont to cover h handkerchiefs t used to th he carries. Go, Ignacio, feel not t bellowing Sleep, fly, rest: even the sea dies! t knoree, nor ts in your own house. ternoon do not know you because you have dead forever. tone does not know you nor ttered. Your silent memory does not know you because you have died forever tumn e snails, misty grapes and clustered hills, but no one o your eyes because you have died forever. Because you have died for ever, like all th, like all tten in a heap of lifeless dogs. Nobady kno I sing of you. For posterity I sing of your profile and grace. Of turity of your understanding. Of your appetite for deataste of its mouth. Of t gaiety. It ime, if ever, before there is born an Andalusian so true, so ricure. I sing of groan, and I remember a sad breeze trees. Landscape of a Pissing Multitude t to themselves: ting for tness of t cyclists. t to themselves: ting th of a boy on a Japanese schooner. t to themselves- dreaming of the open beaks of dying birds, t punctures a recently flattened toad, beneathousand ears and tiny mouter in t resist t attack on the moon. ts were breaking in anguisness and vigilance of all things, and because of tprints, obscure names, saliva, and cill crying. It doesnt matter if t pin, or if ted in cupped cotton flowers, because tual sailors he arches and freeze you from berees. Its useless to look for the bend s way and to in ambus has no torn clotears, because even tiny banquet of a spider is enougo upset tire equilibrium of the sky. the moaning from a Japanese schooner, nor for tumble on the curbs. tryside bites its oail in order to gats and a ball of yarn looks anxiously in tude. the ocean liners! Facades of urine, of smoke, anemones, rubber gloves. Everyttered in t t spread its legs on terraces. Everytter in tepid faucets of a terrible silent fountain. Oh, crowds! Loose women! Soldiers! e s, open country whe docile cobras, coiled like wire, hiss, landscapes full of graves t yield t apples, so t uncontrollable light will arrive to frigheir magnifying glasses- t- and so t fire ill able to piss around a moan or on tals in ood. Landscape of a Vomiting Multitude t lady came out first, tearing out roots and moistening drumskins. t lady opuses inside out. t lady, tagonist, reets and deserted buildings and leaving tiny skulls of pigeons in the corners and stirring up t centuries feasts and summoning t hills and filtering a longing for ligo subterranean tunnels. the graveyards and tchens buried in sand, ts and apples of another era, pus into our t. t y wax children, ed trees and tireless ers beneath harps of saliva. t! ther way. Its not t of s of their whores, nor t of cats t inadvertently swallowed frogs, but tch clay hands on flint gates ws decay. t lady came first averns, and parks. Vomit ely ss drums among a fetle girls of blood ion. ho could imagine my sadness? t no me, trembling for alcohol and launching incredible ships the piers. I protect myself his look t flows from waves where no dawn would go, I, poet arms, lost in ting multitude, o shear temples. t lady first and t looking for pharmacies ropics could be found. Only dogs arrived did tire city ruso the boardwalk. Las Seis Cuerdas La guitarra, ilde;os. El sollozo de las almas perdidas, se escapa por su boca redonda. Y como la taramp;aacute;ntula teje una gran estrella para cazar suspiros, que flotan en su negro aljibe de madera. Little Viennese Waltz In Vienna ten little girls, a so cry on, and a forest of dried pigeons. t of tomorrow in ter frost. thousand-windowed dance hall. Ay, ay, ay, ay! take tz. Little z, little z, little z, of itself of death, and of brandy t dips its tail in the sea. I love you, I love you, I love you, h, dohe melancholy hallway, in t, Ay, ay, ay, ay! take ted z. In Vienna there are four mirrors in whe ehcoes play. th for piano t paints little boys blue. the roof. tears. Ay, ay, ay, ay! take tz t dies in my arms. Because I love you, I love you, my love, in ttic whe children play, dreaming ancient lights of hungary ternoon, seeing sheep and irises of snow the dark silence of your forehead Ay, ay, ay, ay! take t; I ; z In Vienna I h you in a costume h a rivers head. See hs line my banks! I ween your legs, my soul in a pographs and lilies, and in tsteps, my love, my love, I will o leave violin and grave, tzing ribbons Muerte De Antoñito El Camborio Muerte De Antoamp;ntilde;ito El Camborio Voces de muerte sonaron cerca del Guadalquivir. Voces antiguas que cercan voz de clavel varonil. Les clavamp;oacute; sobre las botas mordiscos de jabalamp;iacute;. En la lucos jabonados de delfamp;iacute;n. Baamp;ntilde;o con sangre enemiga su corbata carmesamp;iacute;, pero eran cuatro puamp;ntilde;ales y tuvo que sucumbir. Cuando las estrellas clavan rejones al agua gris, cuando los erales sueamp;ntilde;an veramp;oacute;nicas de ale;, voces de muerte sonaron cerca del Guadalquivir. Antonio torres heredia, Camborio de dura crin, moreno de verde luna, voz de clavel varonil: ?quiamp;eacute;n te ado la vida cerca del Guadalquivir? Mis cuatro primos heredias e;. Lo que en otros no envidiaban, ya lo envidiaban en mamp;iacute;. Zapatos color corinto, medallones de marfil, y este cutis amasado con aceituna y jazmamp;iacute;n. ?Ay Antoamp;ntilde;ito el Camborio, digno de una Emperatriz! Acuamp;eacute;rate de la Virgen porque te vas a morir. ?Ay Federico Garcamp;iacute;a, llama a la Guardia Civil! Ya mi talle se ha quebrado como caamp;ntilde;a de maamp;iacute;z. tres golpes de sangre tuvo y se muriamp;oacute; de perfil. Viva moneda que nunca se volveramp;aacute; a repetir. Un amp;aacute;ngel marchoso pone su cabeza en un cojamp;iacute;n. Otros de rubor cansado, encendieron un candil. Y cuando los cuatro primos llegan a Benamejamp;iacute;, voces de muerte cesaron cerca del Guadalquivir. Murió Al Amanecer Nocro lunas y un solo amp;aacute;rbol, con una sola sombra y un solo pamp;aacute;jaro. Busco en mi carne las us labios. El manantial besa al viento sin tocarlo. Llevo el No que me diste, en la palma de la mano, como un limamp;oacute;n de cera casi blanco. Nocro lunas y un solo amp;aacute;rbol, En la punta de una aguja, estamp;aacute; mi amor ?girando! Nocturnos De La Ventana 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 niamp;ntilde;as venamp;iacute;an. Sin el esfuerzo, de la luna del agua, me fuamp;iacute; a la del cielo. Un brazo de la noche entra por mi ventana. Un gran brazo moreno con pulseras de agua. Sobre un cristal azul jugaba al ramp;iacute;o mi alma. Los instantes heridos por el reloj... pasaban. Asomo la cabeza por mi ventana, y veo camp;oacute;mo quiere cortarla la cuco. En esta guillotina invisible, yo o las cabezas sin ojos de todos mis deseos. Y un olor de limamp;oacute;n llenamp;oacute; el instante inmenso, mientras se convertamp;iacute;a en flor de gasa el viento. Al estanque se le o ilde;a de agua. Estamp;aacute; fuera del estanque, sobre el suelo amortajada. De la cabeza a sus muslos un pez la cruza, llamamp;aacute;ndola. El viento le dice ※niamp;ntilde;a§ mas no puede despertarla. El estanque tiene suelta su cabellera de algas y al aire sus grises tetas estremecidas de ranas. Dios te salve. Rezaremos a Nuestra Seamp;ntilde;ora de Agua por la niamp;ntilde;a del estanque muerta bajo las manzanas. Yo luego pondramp;eacute; a su lado dos pequeamp;ntilde;as calabazas para que se tenga a flote, ?ay! sobre la mar salada. 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 framp;iacute;os. tiembla junco y penumbra a la orilla del ramp;iacute;o. Se riza el aire gris. Los olivos, estamp;aacute;n cargados de gritos. Una bandada de pamp;aacute;jaros cautivos, que mueven sus larguamp;iacute;simas colas en lo sombramp;iacute;o. Piccolo Valzer Viennese Piccolo Valzer Viennese A Vienna ci sono dieci ragazze, una spalla dove piange la morte e un bosco di colombe disseccate. Ce un frammento del mattino nel museo della brina. Camp;egrave; un salone con mille vetrate. Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Prendi questo valzer con la bocca chiusa. Questo valzer, questo valzer, questo valzer, di samp;igrave;, di morte e di cognac che si bagna la coda nel mare. Io ti amo, io ti amo, io ti amo con la poltrona e con il libro morto, nel malinconico corridoio, nelloscura soffitta del giglio, nel nostro letto della luna, nella danza cartaruga. Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Prendi questo valzer dalla spezzata cintura. A Vienna ci sono quattro specchi, vi giocano la tua bocca e gli echi. Camp;egrave; una morte per pianoforte cinge dazzurro i giovanotti. Ci sono mendicerrazzi. E fresco. Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Prendi questo valzer che spira fra le mie braccia. Perci amo, ti amo, amore mio, nella soffitta dove giocano i bambini, sognando vecchie luci dUngheria nel mormorio di una sera mite, vedendo agnelli e gigli di neve nelloscuro silenzio delle tue tempie. Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Prendi questo valzer del quot;ti amo per semprequot;. A Vienna balleramp;ograve; con te con un costume cesta di fiume. Guarda queste mie rive di giacinti! Lasceramp;ograve; la mia bocca tra le tue gambe, la mia anima in foto e fiordalisi, e nelle onde oscure del tuo passo io voglio, amore mio, amore mio, lasciare, violino e sepolcro, i nastri del valzer. In Vienna ten little girls a so cry on and a forest of dried pigeons. t of tomorrow in ter frost. thousand-windowed dance hall. Ay, ay, ay, ay! take tz. Little z, little z, little z, of itself, of death, and of brandy t dips its tail in the sea. I love you, I love you, I love you, h dohe melancholy hallway, in t, in our bed t he moons bed, and in t dance turtle dreamed of. Ay, ay, ay, ay! take ted z In Vienna there are four mirrors in whe echoes play. th for piano t paints ttle boys blue. the roof. tears. Aye, ay, ay, ay! take tz t dies in my arms. Because I love you, I love you, my love, in ttic where children play, dreaming ancient lights of hungary ternoon, seeing sheep and irises of snow the dark silence of your forehead. Ay, ay, ay ay! take t;I ; z. In Vienna I h you in a costume h a rivers head. See hs line my banks! I ween your legs, my soul in pographs and lilies, and in tsteps, my love, my love, I will o leave violin and grave, tzing ribbons. Preciosa Y El Aire Su luna de pergamino Preciosa tocando viene por un anfibio sendero de cristales y laureles. El silencio sin estrellas, e, cae donde el mar bate y canta su noche llena de peces. En los picos de la sierra los carabineros duermen guardando las blancas torres donde viven los ingleses. Y los gitanos del agua levantan por distraerse, glorietas de caracolas y ramas de pino verde. Su luna de pergamino Preciosa tocando viene. Al verla se ado el viento que nunca duerme. San Cristobalamp;oacute;n desnudo, lleno de lenguas celestes, mira a la niamp;ntilde;a tocando una dulce gaita ausente. Niamp;ntilde;a, deja que levante tu vestido para verte. Abre en mi dedos antiguos la rosa azul de tu vientre. Preciosa tira el pandero y corre sin detenerse. El viento-e;n la persigue con una espada caliente. Frunce su rumor el mar. Los olivos palidecen. Cantan las flautas de umbramp;iacute;a y el liso gong de la nieve. ?Preciosa, corre, Preciosa, que te coge el viento verde! Preciosa, corre, Preciosa! ?Mamp;iacute;ralo por donde viene! Samp;aacute;tiro de estrellas bajas con sus lenguas relucientes. Preciosa, llena de miedo, entra en la casa que tiene, mamp;aacute;s arriba de los pinos, el camp;oacute;nsul de los ingleses. Asustados por los gritos tres carabineros viene, sus negras capas ceamp;ntilde;idas y los gorros en las sienes. El inglamp;eacute;s da a la gitana un vaso de tibia leche, y una copa de ginebra que Preciosa no se bebe. Y mientras cuenta, llorando su aventura a aquella gente, en las tejas de pizarra el viento, furioso, muerde. Romance De La Luna e, and just ed to extend an invitiation to register for our free site. try strive to make this a fun place to learn and share - hope you join us! - Kevin Romance Sonámbulo Englisranslation Green, you green. Green wind. Green branches. t on the sea and tain. it she dreams on her balcony, green flesh, her hair green, h eyes of cold silver. Green, you green. Under the gypsy moon, all tching her and s see them. Green, you green. Big stars come he fish of shadow t opens the road of dawn. tree rubs its wind s branches, and t, cunning cat, bristles its brittle fibers. But who will come? And from where? Sill on her balcony green flesh, her hair green, dreaming in tter sea. --My friend, I to trade my horse for her house, my saddle for her mirror, my knife for . My friend, I come bleeding from tes of Cabra. --If it were possible, my boy, Id trade. But no I, nor is my house now my house. --My friend, I to die decently in my bed. Of iron, if ts possible, s of fine chambray. Dont you see the wound I have from my c up to my t? --Your we s has grown thirsy dark brown roses. Your blood oozes and flees a round the corners of your sash. But no I, nor is my house now my house. --Let me climb up, at least, up to the high balconies; Let me climb up! Let me, up to the green balconies. Railings of the moon ter rumbles. Nowo friends climb up, up to the high balconies. Leaving a trail of blood. Leaving a trail of teardrops. tin bell vines rembling on the roofs. A tal tambourines struck at t. Green, you green, green wind, green branches. two friends climbed up. tiff in trange taste of bile, of mint, and of basil My friend, well me-- wter girl? imes sed for you! imes would s for you, cool face, black hair, on this green balcony! Over tern the gypsy girl was swinging, green flesh, her hair green, h eyes of cold silver. An icicle of moon er. t became intimate like a little plaza. Drunken quot;Guardias Civilesquot; he door. Green, you green. Green wind. Green branches. t on the sea. And tain. ella sueamp;ntilde;a en sus baranda, verde carne, pelo verde, con ojos de framp;iacute;a plata. Verde que te quiero verde. Bajo la luna gitana, las cosas la estamp;aacute;n mirando y ella no puede mirarlas. Verde que te quiero verde. Grandes estrellas de escarcha, vienen con el pez de sombra que abre el camino del alba. La a su viento con la lija de sus ramas, y el monte, gato garduamp;ntilde;o, eriza sus pitas agrias. ?Pero quiamp;eacute;n vendramp;aacute;? ?Y por damp;oacute;nde...? Ella sigue en su baranda, verde carne, pelo verde, soamp;ntilde;ando en la mar amarga. Compadre, quiero cambiar mi caballo por su casa, mi montura por su espejo, mi cuca. Compadre, vengo sangrando, desde los puertos de Cabra. Si yo pudiera, mocito, este trato se cerraba. Pero yo ya no soy yo, Ni mi casa es ya mi casa. Compadre, quiero morir decentemente en mi cama. De acero, si puede ser, con las samp;aacute;banas de holanda. ?No ves la engo desde el peca? trescientas rosas morenas lleva tu pechera blanca. tu sangre rezuma y huele alrededor de tu faja. Pero yo ya no soy yo. Ni mi casa es ya mi casa. Dejadme subir al menos a las altas barandas, ?dejadme subir!, dejadme a las verdes barandas. Barandales de la luna por donde retumba el agua. Ya suben los dos compadres as barandas. Dejando un rastro de sangre. Dejando un rastro de lamp;aacute;grimas. temblaban en los tejados farolillos de a. Mil panderos de cristal, e;an la madrugada. Verde que te quiero verde, verde viento, verdes ramas. Los dos compadres subieron. El largo viento, dejaba en la boca un raro gusto de a y de albahaca. ?Compadre! ?Damp;oacute;nde estamp;aacute;, dime? ?Damp;oacute;nde estamp;aacute; tu niamp;ntilde;a amarga? ?Cuamp;aacute;ntas veces te esperamp;oacute;! ?Cuamp;aacute;ntas veces te esperara, cara fresca, negro pelo, en esta verde baranda! Sobre el rostro del aljibe se mecamp;iacute;a la gitana. Verde carne, pelo verde, con ojos de framp;iacute;a plata. Un caramp;aacute;bano de luna la sostiene sobre el agua. La noce;ntima como una pequeamp;ntilde;a plaza. Guardias civiles borrachos en la puerta golpeaban. Romance Sonambulo Green, you green. Green wind. Green branches. t on the sea and tain. it she dreams on her balcony, green flesh, her hair green, h eyes of cold silver. Green, you green. Under the gypsy moon, all tching her and s see them. Green, you green. Big stars come he fish of shadow t opens the road of dawn. tree rubs its wind s branches, and t, cunning cat, bristles its brittle fibers. But who will come? And from where? Sill on her balcony green flesh, her hair green, dreaming in tter sea. --My friend, I to trade my horse for her house, my saddle for her mirror, my knife for . My friend, I come bleeding from tes of Cabra. --If it were possible, my boy, Id trade. But no I, nor is my house now my house. --My friend, I to die decently in my bed. Of iron, if ts possible, s of fine chambray. Dont you see the wound I have from my c up to my t? --Your we s has grown ty dark brown roses. Your blood oozes and flees around the corners of your sash. But no I, nor is my house now my house. --Let me climb up, at least, up to the high balconies; Let me climb up! Let me, up to the green balconies. 45 Railings of the moon ter rumbles. Nowo friends climb up, up to the high balconies. Leaving a trail of blood. Leaving a trail of teardrops. tin bell vines rembling on the roofs. A tal tambourines struck at t. Green, you green, green wind, green branches. two friends climbed up. tiff in trange taste of bile, of mint, and of basil My friend, well me-- wter girl? imes sed for you! imes would s for you, cool face, black hair, on this green balcony! Over tern the gypsy girl was swinging, green flesh, her hair green, h eyes of cold silver. An icicle of moon er. t became intimate like a little plaza. Drunken quot;Guardias Civilesquot; he door. Green, you green. Green wind. Green branches. t on the sea. And tain. Saturday Paseo: Adelina Oranges do not grohe sea neithere love in Sevilla. You in Dark and ts , loan me your parasol. Ill ion, juice of lemon and lime- and your words, your sinful little words- will swim around awhile. Oranges do not grohe sea, Ay, love! And there is no love in Sevilla! Serenata t soaks itself along the river and in Lolitas breasts the branches die of love. the branches die of love. Naked t sings above the bridges of March. Lolita bathes her body er and roses. the branches die of love. t of anise and silver sops. Silver of streams and mirrors Anise of your highs. the branches die of love. Soneto Largo espectro de plata conmovida el viento de la noche suspirando, abriamp;oacute; con mano gris mi vieja herida y se alejamp;oacute;: yo estaba deseando. Llaga de amor que me daramp;aacute; la vida perpetua sangre y pura luz brotando. Grieta en que Filomela enmudecida tendramp;aacute; bosque, dolor y nido blando. ?Ay quamp;eacute; dulce rumor en mi cabeza! Me tenderamp;eacute; junto a la flor sencilla donde flota sin alma tu belleza. Y el agua errante se pondramp;aacute; amarilla, mientras corre mi sangre en la maleza mojada y olorosa de la orilla. Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint Never let me lose the marvel of your statue-like eyes, or t tary rose of your breath places on my c night. I am afraid of being, on this shore, a brancrunk, and regret is having no flower, pulp, or clay for the worm of my despair. If you are my reasure, if you are my cross, my dampened pain, if I am a dog, and you alone my master, never let me lose w I have gained, and adorn the branches of your river ranged Autumn. The Faithless Wife So I took o the river believing she was a maiden, but she already had a husband. It . James night and almost as if I o. terns out and ts lighted up. In t street corners I toucs and to me suddenly like spikes of h. tarcticoat sounded in my ears like a piece of silk rent by ten knives. it silver ligheir foliage trees had grown larger and a horizon of dogs barked very far from the river. Past the blackberries, thorne underneater of hair I made a h I took off my tie, soo off her dress. I, my belt he revolver, She, her four bodices. Nor nard nor mother-o＊-pearl have skin so fine, nor does glass h silver sh such brilliance. highs slipped away from me like startled fish, half full of fire, half full of cold. t night I ran on t of roads mounted on a nacre mare bridle stirrups. As a man, I repeat to me. t of understanding . Smeared h sand and kisses I took he river. the lilies battled he air. I be I am, like a proper gypsy. I gave , of strain, but I did not fall in love for although she had a husband sold me she was a maiden he river. The Gypsy and the Wind Playing moon Precosia comes along a ery patal lights. tarless silence, fleeing from ambourine, falls whe sea whips and sings, filled h silvery swarms. op tain peaks tinels are weeping; tall owers of te. And gypsies of ter for t little castles of conch shells and arbors of greening pine. Playing moon Precosia comes. the wind sees her and rises, t never slumbers. Naked Saint Copher swells, che girl as he plays ongues of celestial bells on an invisible bagpipe. Gypsy, let me lift your skirt and you. Open in my ancient fingers the blue rose of your womb. Precosia tambourine and runs aerror. But the virile wind pursues her hing and burning sword. the sea darkens and roars, urn pale. tes of darkness sound, and a muted gong of the snow. Precosia, run, Precosia! Or tch you! Precosia, run, Precosia! And look he comes! A satyr of loars ening tongues. Precosia, filled h fear, no house beyond tall green pines whe English consul lives. Alarmed by the anguished cries, three riflemen come running, tightly drawn, and berets doheir brow. the gypsy a glass of tepid milk and a s of holland gin w drink. And hem, weeping, of range adventure, the wind furiously gnashes against te roof tiles. The Little Mute Boy tle boy was looking for his voice. (ts .) In a drop of er ttle boy was looking for his voice. I do not it for speaking h; I so t he may wear my silence on tle finger. In a drop of er ttle boy was looking for his voice. (tive voice, far away. Put on a cricket clothes.) Weeping eeping, I go doreet Grotesque, solution ithe sadness of Cyrano And Quixote. Redeeming Infinite impossiblities ithe clock.