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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Lorca Translations II Canción del jinete (“Song of the Rider”) by Federico Garcia Lorca translation by Michael R. Burch Cordoba. Distant and lone. Black pony, big moon, olives in my saddlebag. Although my pony knows the way, I never will reach Cordoba. High plains, high winds. Black pony, blood moon. Death awaits me, watching from the towers of Cordoba. Such a long, long way! Oh my brave pony! Death awaits me before I arrive in Cordoba! Cordoba. Distant and lone. Arbolé, arbolé (“Tree, Tree”) by Federico Garcia Lorca translation by Michael R. Burch Sapling, sapling, dry but green. The girl with the lovely countenance gathers olives. The wind, that towering lover, seizes her by the waist. Four dandies ride by on fine Andalusian steeds, wearing azure and emerald suits beneath long shadowy cloaks. “Come to Cordoba, sweetheart!” The girl does not heed them. Three young bullfighters pass by, slim-waisted, wearing suits of orange, with swords of antique silver. “Come to Sevilla, sweetheart!” The girl does not heed them. When twilight falls and the sky purples with day’s demise, a young man passes by, bearing roses and moonlit myrtle. “Come to Granada, sweetheart!” But the girl does not heed him. The girl, with the lovely countenance continues gathering olives while the wind’s colorless arms encircle her waist. Sapling, sapling, dry but green. Despedida (“Farewell”) by Federico Garcia Lorca translation by Michael R. Burch If I die, leave the balcony open. The boy eats oranges. (I see him from my balcony.) The reaper scythes barley. (I feel it from my balcony.) If I die, leave the balcony open! * In the green morning I longed to become a heart. Heart. In the ripe evening I longed to become a nightingale. Nightingale. (Soul, become the color of oranges. Soul, become the color of love.) In the living morning I wanted to be me. Heart. At nightfall I wanted to be my voice. Nightingale. Soul, become the color of oranges. Soul, become the color of love! * I want to return to childhood, and from childhood to the darkness. Are you going, nightingale? Go! I want return to the darkness And from the darkness to the flower. Are you leaving, aroma? Go! I want to return to the flower and from the flower to my heart. Are you departing, love? Depart! (To my deserted heart!)
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