Costa Calida sun,
I hope we’re reunited,
Though I can’t say when,
I may see you again,
Costa Calida sun
Means memories romantic,
Of when that I was young,
Memories of Spain.
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. These are Michael R. Burch's modern English translations of the Spanish poems of Federico Garcia Lorca.
Gacela of the Dark Death
by Federico Garcia Lorca
loose translation/interpretation 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.
......
O how
Ruefully I pine
For mi pueblito perdido,
What I wouldn’t give,
To be young again,
And happy as I was back then.
Maria, full of peace,
Do you remember
Francis Albert softly keening
......
One summer’s eve in Spain,
I fled through an open window,
Butterflies aflight
In the very pit of me,
And I tramped the streets,
My heart abrim
With such a love,
But a love now long gone.
With my final matches,
......
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. These are Michael R. Burch's modern English translations of the Spanish poems of Federico Garcia Lorca.
Gacela of the Dark Death
by Federico Garcia Lorca
loose translation/interpretation 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.
......
Costa Calida sun,
I hope we’re reunited,
Though I can’t say when,
I may see you again,
Costa Calida sun
Means memories romantic,
Of when that I was young,
Memories of Spain.
One summer’s eve in Spain,
I fled through an open window,
Butterflies aflight
In the very pit of me,
And I tramped the streets,
My heart abrim
With such a love,
But a love now long gone.
With my final matches,
......
O how
Ruefully I pine
For mi pueblito perdido,
What I wouldn’t give,
To be young again,
And happy as I was back then.
Maria, full of peace,
Do you remember
Francis Albert softly keening
......