Federico García Lorca Quotes

"شکل‌های ناب که غرق شدند
،زیرِ جیرجیرِ گل‌های مروارید
.فهمیدم که مرا کشته‌اند

،کافه‌ها را گشته بودند به‌خاطرِ من، گورستان‌ها را، و کلیساها را
،از سرِ کنج‌ کاوی بشکه‌ها و گنجه‌ها را گشوده بودند
.سه اسکلت را نابود کردند که دندان‌های طلای‌شان را درآورند

.اما دیگر پیدایم نکردند
پیدا نکردند؟
.نه، پیدایم نکردند

،اما فهمیدند که ماهِ هفتم از برابرِ سیلاب گریخته است
و دریا ـ ناگهان! ـ به یاد آورد نامِ همه ‌ی آن ‌ها را که غرق شده بودند

........
قسمتی از شعر معروف «افسانه‌ی سه دوست که زیرِ بارانِ گلوله آواز خواندند» که گفته می شود "لورکا" در آن نحوه مرگش را پیش بینی کرده بود"

You tormented
a hummingbird of love
between your teeth.

¡Ay qué trabajo me cuesta, quererte como te quiero!

The children watch
a distant point.
Lamps go out.
Some blind girls
question the moon
and spirals of grief
rise in the air.
The mountains survey
a distant point.

- After Passing By

I alone with my undiscovered love,
without heart, without tears,
towards the skies’ impossible roof
with a huge sun to console me.

As I was not worried about being, born, I don't worry about dying.

Pero ya duerme sin fin.
Ya los musgos y la hierba
abren con dedos seguros
la flor de su calavera.
Y su sangre ya viene cantando:
cantando por marismas y praderas,
resbalando por cuernos ateridos,
vacilando sin alma por la niebla,
tropezando con miles de pezuñas
como una larga, oscura, triste lengua,
para formar un charco de agonía
junto al Guadalquivir de las estrellas.
¡Oh blanco muro de España!
¡Oh negro toro de pena!
¡Oh sangre dura de Ignacio!
¡Oh ruiseñor de sus venas!

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.

Pero yo ya no soy yo,
ni mi casa es ya mi casa.

¡Que no quiero verla! Dile a la luna que venga,
que no quiero ver la sangre
de Ignacio sobre la arena. ¡Que no quiero verla!

In Spain the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world.

[To find a kiss of yours]

translated by Sarah Arvio.

To find a kiss of yours
what would I give
A kiss that strayed from your lips
dead to love

My lips taste
the dirt of shadows

To gaze at your dark eyes
what would I give
Dawns of rainbow garnet
fanning open before God — The stars blinded them
one morning in May

And to kiss your pure thighs
what would I give
Raw rose crystal
sediment of the sun

I will not see it! Tell the moon to come,
for I do not want to see the blood
of Ignacio on the sand. I will not see it!

Caballito negro.
¿Dónde llevas tu jinete muerto?

If blue is dream
what then innocence?
What awaits the heart
if Love bears no arrows?