Lorca Translations I
Lorca Translations I
Gacela of the Dark Death
by Federico Garcia Lorca
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I want to sleep the dreamless sleep of apples
far from the bustle of cemeteries.
I want to sleep the dream-filled sleep of the child
who longed to cut out his heart on the high seas.
I don't want to hear how the corpse retains its blood,
or how the putrefying mouth continues accumulating water.
I don't want to be informed of the grasses’ torture sessions,
nor of the moon with its serpent's snout
scuttling until dawn.
I want to sleep awhile,
whether a second, a minute, or a century;
and yet I want everyone to know that I’m still alive,
that there’s a golden manger in my lips;
that I’m the elfin companion of the West Wind;
that I’m the immense shadow of my own tears.
When Dawn arrives, cover me with a veil,
because Dawn will toss fistfuls of ants at me;
then wet my shoes with a little hard water
so her scorpion pincers slip off.
Because I want to sleep the dreamless sleep of the apples,
to learn the lament that cleanses me of this earth;
because I want to live again as that dark child
who longed to cut out his heart on the high sea.
Gacela de la huida (“Ghazal of the Flight”)
by Federico Garcia Lorca
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I have been lost, many times, by the sea
with an ear full of freshly-cut flowers
and a tongue spilling love and agony.
I have often been lost by the sea,
as I am lost in the hearts of children.
At night, no one giving a kiss
fails to feel the smiles of the faceless.
No one touching a new-born child
fails to remember horses’ thick skulls.
Because roses root through the forehead
for hardened landscapes of bone,
and man’s hands merely imitate
roots, underground.
Thus, I have lost myself in children’s hearts
and have been lost many times by the sea.
Ignorant of water, I go searching
for death, as the light consumes me.
La balada del agua del mar (“The Ballad of the Sea Water”)
by Federico Garcia Lorca
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The sea
smiles in the distance:
foam-toothed,
heaven-lipped.
What do you sell, shadowy child
with your naked breasts?
Sir, I sell
the sea’s saltwater.
What do you bear, dark child,
mingled with your blood?
Sir, I bear
the sea’s saltwater.
Those briny tears,
where were they born, mother?
Sir, I weep
the sea’s saltwater.
Heart, this bitterness,
whence does it arise?
So very bitter,
the sea’s saltwater!
The sea
smiles in the distance:
foam-toothed,
heaven-lipped.
Copyright ©
Michael Burch
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