Long Andalusian Poems

Translation of David Broza's " ! Ay Amor ! Que seria de mi ! " by T. Wignesan

( I'm not certain if this' s the original title of the lyrics composed by Eitan Nahmias GLASS....

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UNQUOTABLE QUOTES: Tongue-Teasers - XLIX

« Third Degree » is when you add « Insult to injury ».

If you take everything everybody says with a « pinch of salt », we’ll soon be able to drink...

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Lorca Translations III

Federico Garcia Lorca (1898-1936) was a Spanish poet, playwright and theater director. He was assassinated by Nationalist forces at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War and his body was never found.

Paisaje (“Landscape”)
by...

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Otto`s life is not
their British
sickular motto
Grue is his banner
left by his
blue-eyed Brit mom
left long by one of
those hated South
African Paki
His guilty pleasures
in Green Street have
no recognition like
many such Aussies in
mulberry bushes
Yet he shovels the
stake of...

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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,...

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La Saeta

Dijo una voz popular:

“¿Quién me presta una escalera,
para subir al madero
para quitarle los clavos
a Jesús el Nazareno?”

¡Oh la saeta, el cantar
al Cristo de los gitanos,
siempre con sangre en las manos
siempre por desenclavar!
¡Cantar del pueblo...

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Emotional tension fills the air...
 Lights and laughter everywhere

 A fiesta audience waits eagerly for a night of passion.

 The dance of Spain and a sensual dancer
 The Andalusian Gypsy dancer
 El baile flamenco tonight…Ole!

...

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Dance of the Firebird

Rosita, sultry enchantress,
dazzling Andalusian firebird,
erotically she twirls, proud
like a phoenix flashing across the sky.

Flared ruffled skirt swirls,
in hues of red, orange, and gold,
like a sunset in the throes of Autumn.
Her olive skin...

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Came from the North displaced by the cold winters,
They migrated to America these creatures
Natives saw the horse differently from the Spanish
As a gift to their People 
Respected godlike before the Spanish came
Not quite the story...

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There’s an air of excitement
Amongst most cultured of Spain
Centred around a little hamlet
On the Andalusian Plain.
They are arriving by the plane load,
Helicopter,  and even limousine 
For the opening performance of
An event never ever before...

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As I watch her rhythmic movements, her beauty entrances me,
Never have I seen such magnificence, she’s as perfect as she can be;

When I saw her for the first time, she stopped me in my tracks,
And...

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The Flamenco Dancer and The Bull

The acoustics of your snuffle
 is an absolution 
of a descending staccato 
in an E chord.
Behold, my lancing third, 
an urgency to trick you 
with my jalapeño-colored capote,
to mask the...

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The Andalusian tops my list,
So elegant with eyes like mist;

But the Quarter horse isn’t far behind,
Praised for their intelligent mind;

And next we have the Cleveland Bay,
Wonderful sport horses are they;

The Warmblood’s are a canny cross,
Drafts...

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on my way to the edge of the world
the angels swoop down like hungry birds
the roar is my heart in love

soon the sky breaks forth the sirens' song
and the sound of wings reverberate through out
the...

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Flowered patios,
admired for their charm,
Andalusian patios lovingly cared for.
As new-born babies 
that Andalusian women take care of 
with gentleness, dedicating
their time with the same devotion
to as a baby who needs attention.

Beauty with big eyes
that shines...

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Listen, 
 can you hear it
 your taste buds losing interest?
 
A buzzing in the air
 black-winged hoverers
flit and fly across the kitchenette
 drawn in by the smell of tantalizing flavors.

Too hot for ovens to...

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The Andalusian grapes are ripe this time
of season. Bacchus pipes his sweet tune o'er
the vineyards while soft breeze doth rustle more
in trees where mission tolls its clanging chime,
and natives wind their way up valley's climb
to...

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The Andalusian grapes are ripe this time
of season. Bacchus pipes his sweet tune o'er
the vinyards while soft breeze doth rustle more
in trees where mission tolls its clanging chime,
and natives wind their way up valley's climb
to...

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It was cooler on the veranda,
below us, a Spanish guitar
translated twilight words.
Orchids unrolled their purple tongues
for the moon to drink upon.

We had quarreled earlier,
now I lowered my head in your lap.

Somewhere, a girl
was singing an...

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It is cooler on the veranda.
Below us a guitar translates the
aroma of an Andalusian night.

Orchids unroll their purple tongues
in an arbor of moonlight.
Starlight flickers
in the eyes of sleeping dogs.

We had quarreled earlier;
I lower my head...

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Below the wrought iron veranda,
a guitar translated the dark.
Orchids unrolled their purple tongues
to arbor the moon.

We had quarreled earlier,
now I lowered my head in your lap.

Someone was singing about the sea;
the way the sea cries...

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