Federico García Lorca
trans. by Sarah Arvio
Seven POEMS
Burla of Don Pedro on Horseback
BALLAD WITH LAGOONS
for Jean Cassou
Don Pedro
came down a path
Ay how the gentleman
wept and wept
Riding a nimble
horse with no bridle
he comes along looking
for bread and a kiss
All the windows
ask the wind
about his dark weeping
why the gentleman weeps
FIRST LAGOON
Under the water
the words carry on
On top of the water
a round moon
swims
rousing the envy
of the other
high-up moon!
A boy on the shore
looks at the moons
Play the cymbals!
he says to the night
SEGUE
Don Pedro has come
to a far city
Far city in a cedar grove—
is it Bethlehem?
Clouds and roofs gleam
Rosemary and lemon grass
scent the wind
Under broken arches
Don Pedro rides in
Out to greet him come
two women one old man
bearing silver lamps
The poplars say: no
And the nightingale: maybe
SECOND LAGOON
Under the water
the words carry on
Over combed water
a ring of birds and flames
Out in the canefields
the witnesses
know what is missing
Vivid wandering dream
of the wood
of a guitar
SEGUE
On the wide road
two women one old man
go to the graveyard
with silver lamps
Deep in the saffron
they found Don Pedro’s
somber horse dead
Secret voice of dusk
bleated through the sky
Unicorn of non-being
breaks its glass horn
The great far city
is burning
and a man is crying
on the inland roads
In the south a sailor
in the north a star
LAST LAGOON
Words lie
under the water
Silt of lost voices
On the cold flower
Don Pedro forgotten
Ay! playing with frogs
Trees
1919
Were you once arrows
falling from the sky
What terrible warriors shot you
Were they the stars
Your music comes from the souls of the birds
from the eyes of god
from the perfect passion
Trees
Have your rough roots found
my heart in the dirt
They Cut Down Three Trees
FOR ERNESTO HALFFTER
There were three.
(Day came with its axes.)
There were two.
(Silver wings touching the ground.)
There was one.
There were none.
(The water was naked.)
Hunter
High grove of pines
Four doves fly through the air
Four doves
fly and veer
drawing behind them
their four wounded shadows
Low grove of pines
Four doves on the ground
Little Madrigal
Your orchard
has four pomegranate trees
(Take my new heart)
Your orchard
will have four cypresses
(Take my old heart)
Sun and moon
and then—
no heart
and no orchard
[Water, Where Do You Go]
Water where do you go
—Down the river I go laughing
to the shores of the sea
Sea where do you go
—Up the river I go looking
for a place I can rest
Poplar what will you do
—I won’t say a thing
I’m trembling
What do I wish what don’t I wish
on the river and on the sea
Four birds with nowhere to go
in the tall poplar
March Orchard
My apple tree
already has a shadow and some birds
How my dream leaps
from the moon to the wind!
My apple tree
gives its arms to the green
In March
how does the white face of January
look to me—
My apple tree
(low wind)
My apple tree
(high sky)
Federico García Lorca (Granada, 1898–1936) is considered one of the greatest poets and playwrights of the twentieth century. He was murdered by Fascist forces at the outset of the Spanish Civil War.
Sarah Arvio is the author of night thoughts: 70 dream poems & notes from an analysis, Sono: Cantos, and Visits from the Seventh. Her translations in this issue are forthcoming in a new volume of the works of Federico García Lorca, Poet in Spain: New Translations (Alfred A. Knopf, 2017).