Federico García Lorca Quotes

Between my shoulders, my full and golden soul takes wing. The April sky turns my eyes indigo.

في بزوغ القمر / يغمر الأرضَ بحرٌ / ويمسي الفؤاد / كالجزيرة في اللانهاية

The evening, lacking intelligent relations, crumbles down into the haze of the horizon.)

The dreadful nostalgia for a wasted life,
the fatal feeling that you were born too late,
or the restless hope for an impossible morning
with the nearby restlessness of the flesh's ache

But two has never been a number — because it's only an anguish and its shadow,
it's only a guitar where love feels how hopeless it is,
it's the proof of someone else's infinity,
and the walls around a dead man,
and the scourging of a new resurrection that will never end.

At five in the afternoon.
It was exactly five in the afternoon.
A boy brought the white sheet
at five in the afternoon.
A frail of lime ready prepared
at five in the afternoon.
The rest was death, and death alone

The weeping of the guitar
begins.
The goblets of dawn
are smashed.
The weeping of the guitar
begins.
Useless
to silence it.
Impossible
to silence it.
It weeps monotonously
as water weeps
as the wind weeps
over snowfields.
Impossible
to silence it.
It weeps for distant
things.
Hot southern sands
yearning for white camellias.
Weeps arrow without target
evening without morning
and the first dead bird
on the branch.
Oh, guitar!
Heart mortally wounded
by five swords.

The night above. We two. Full moon.
I started to weep, you laughed.
Your scorn was a god, my laments
moments and doves in a chain.
The night below. We two. Crystal of pain.
You wept over great distances.
My ache was a clutch of agonies
over your sickly heart of sand.
Dawn married us on the bed,
our mouths to the frozen spout
of unstaunched blood.
The sun came through the shuttered balcony
and the coral of life opened its branches
over my shrouded heart.

- Night of Sleepless Love

Je la pris près de la rivière
Car je la croyais sans mari
Tandis qu'elle était adultère
Ce fut la Saint Jacques la nuit
Par rendez vous et compromis
Quand s'éteignirent les lumiéres
Et s'allumèrent les cri-cri
Au coin des dernières enceintes
Je touchai ses seins endormis
Sa poitrine pour moi s'ouvrit
Comme des branches de jacinthes
Et dans mes oreilles l'empois
De ses jupes amidonnées
Crissait comme soie arrachée
Par dix couteaux à la fois
Les cimes d'arbres sans lumière
Grandissaient au bord du chemin
Et tout un horizon de chiens
Aboyaient loin de la rivière

Quand nous avons franchi les ronces
Les épines et les ajoncs
Sous elle son chignon s'enfonce
Et fait untrou dans le limon
Quand ma cravate fut otée
Elle retira son jupon
Puis quand j'otai mon ceinturon
Quatre corsages d'affilée
Ni le nard ni les escargots
N'eurent jamais la peau si fine
Ni sous la lune les cristaux
N'ont de lueur plus cristalline
Ses cuisses s'enfuyaient sous moi
Comme des truites effrayées
L'une moitié toute embrasée
L'autre moitié pleine de froid
Cette nuit me vit galoper
De ma plus belle chevauchée
Sur une pouliche nacrée
Sans bride et sans étriers ......

The duende....Where is the duende? Through the empty archway a wind of the spirit enters, blowing insistently over the heads of the dead, in search of new landscapes and unknown accents: a wind with the odour of a child's saliva, crushed grass, and medusa's veil, announcing the endless baptism of freshly created things.

Hay cosas que no se pueden decir porque no hay palabras para decirlas; y si las hubiera, nadie entendería su significado.

"Madrigals"

1
Like concentric ripples
over the water,
so in my heart
your words.

Like a bird that strikes
against the wind,
so on my lips
your kisses.

Like exposed fountains
opposing the evening,
so my dark eyes
over your flesh.

2
I am caught
in your circles,
concentric.

Like Saturn
I wear
the rings
of my dream.

I am not ruined by setting
nor do I rise myself.

شب چار ماه و
یه تک‌درخت و
یه سایه‌ی تک
و یه پرنده‌ی تنها.
رو تنم دنبال رد لبات می‌گردم.
فواره بادو می‌بوسه
لمسش نمی‌کنه.
همون «نه» که بم گفتیو
تو کف دستام با خودم می‌برم
مثه یه لیموی مومی خیلی سفید
شب چار ماه و
یه درخت تک.
رو نوک یه سوزن
عشق من
می‌چرخه.

Julieta, la noche no es un momento, pero un momento puede durar toda la noche.

Cada vez tengo más deseos, y menos esperanzas.