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.