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Poem by Federico Garcia Lorca  

Mariana_Trench_ 50F
1973 posts
5/20/2010 9:32 pm
Poem by Federico Garcia Lorca

Romance Sonambulo

Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the on the mountain.
With the shade around her waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon,
all things are watching her
and she cannot see them.

Green, how I want you green.
Big hoarfrost stars
come with the fish of shadow
that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs its wind
with the sandpaper of its branches,
and the forest, cunning cat,
bristles its brittle fibers.
But who will come? And from where?
She is still on her balcony
green flesh, her hair green,
dreaming in the bitter sea.

--My friend, I want to trade
my for her house,
my saddle for her mirror,
my knife for her blanket.
My friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabra.
--If it were possible, my boy,
I'd help you fix that trade.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--My friend, I want to die
decently in my bed.
Of iron, if that's possible,
with blankets of fine chambray.
Don't you see the wound I have
from my chest up to my throat?
--Your white shirt has grown
thirsty dark brown roses.
Your blood oozes and flees
around the corners of your sash.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--Let me climb up, at least,
up to the high balconies;
Let me climb up! Let me,
up to the green balconies.
Railings of the moon
through which the water rumbles.

Now the two friends climb up,
up to the high balconies.
Leaving a trail of blood.
Leaving a trail of teardrops.
Tin bell vines
were trembling on the roofs.
A thousand crystal tambourines
struck at the dawn light.

Green, how I want you green,
green wind, green branches.
The two friends climbed up.
The stiff wind left
in their mouths, a strange taste
of bile, of mint, and of basil
My friend, where is she--tell me--
where is your bitter girl?
How many times she waited for you!
How many times would she wait for you,
cool face, black hair,
on this green balcony!
Over the mouth of the cistern
the gypsy girl was swinging,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
An icicle of moon
holds her up above the water.
The night became intimate
like a little plaza.
Drunken "Guardias Civiles"
were pounding on the door.
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea.
And the on the mountain.

----

Verde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar
y el caballo en la monta�a.
Con la sombra en la cintura
ella sue�a en su baranda,
verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fr�a plata.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Bajo la luna gitana,
las cosas la est�n mirando
y ella no puede mirarlas.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Grandes estrellas de escarcha
vienen con el pez de sombra
que abre el camino del alba.
La higuera frota su viento
con la lija de sus ramas,
y el monte, gato gardu�o,
eriza sus pitas agrias.
�Pero qui�n vendra? �Y por d�nde...?
Ella sigue en su baranda,
Verde came, pelo verde,
so�ando en la mar amarga.
--Compadre, quiero cambiar
mi caballo por su casa,
mi montura por su espejo,
mi cuchillo per su manta.
Compadre, vengo sangrando,
desde los puertos de Cabra.
--Si yo pudiera, mocito,
este trato se cerraba.
Pero yo ya no soy yo,
ni mi casa es ya mi casa.
--Compadre, quiero morir
decentemente en mi cama.
De acero, si puede ser,
con las s�banas de holanda.
�No ves la herida que tengo
desde el pecho a la garganta?
--Trescientas rosas morenas
lleva tu pechera blanca.
Tu sangre rezuma y huele
alrededor de tu faja.
Pero yo ya no soy yo,
ni mi casa es ya mi casa.
--Dejadme subir al menos
hasta las altas barandas;
�dejadme subir!, dejadme,
hasta las verdes barandas.
Barandales de la luna
por donde retumba el agua.
Ya suben los dos compadres
hacia las altas barandas.
Dejando un rastro de sangre.
Dejando un rastro de l�grimas.
Temblaban en los tejados
farolillos de hojalata.
Mil panderos de cristal
her�an la madrugada.
Verde que te quiero verde,
verde viento, verdes ramas.
Los dos compadres subieron.
El largo viento dejaba
en la boca un raro gusto
de hiel, de menta y de albahaca.
�Compadre! �Donde est�, d�me?
�Donde est� tu ni�a amarga?
�Cu�ntas veces te esper�!
�Cu�ntas veces te esperara,
cara fresca, negro pelo,
en esta verde baranda!
Sobre el rostro del aljibe
se mec�a la gitana.
Verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fr�a plata.
Un car�mbano de luna
la sostiene sobre el agua.
La noche se puso �ntima
como una peque�a plaza.
Guardias civiles borrachos
en la puerta golpeaban.
Verde que te qinero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar.
Y el caballo en la monta�a.




rm_stephen19664 58M
1899 posts
8/1/2010 4:39 pm

You never call me baby, and I know lot's of Spanish...Que pasa?..Suave..Tranquilo..
Stephen(Ettiene in French)
Nay ho (how do you do? in Asian)
Not now! (english for get the fuk away)
Excuse me, MT, but need to update my language profile...cuz I AM prolific in a number of them..as I just bore out
ps- I DO understand Hemingway..can you do one that I get?


SooooHorny 50M

5/30/2010 6:22 am

    Quoting Mariana_Trench_:
    Very glad to hear that, SooooHorny.

    Do you read Spanish?

    MT
yes, i can read spanish. i like how this set rolls of my tongue... and no i don't understand spanish. probably watched too much sesame street as a kid.

it is better in spanish, though... it dances!

[post 2856614]

This is the really small writing... in bold how 'bout RAINBOW colors?


Mariana_Trench_ 50F
4396 posts
5/29/2010 1:15 pm

    Quoting SooooHorny:
    i like this one.
    Verde que te qinero verde.
    Verde viento. Verdes ramas.

Very glad to hear that, SooooHorny.

Do you read Spanish?

MT


Mariana_Trench_ 50F
4396 posts
5/29/2010 12:59 pm

    Quoting  :

Thank you! This has been a busy past 10 or so days. Sorry for the delay in replying. I love you lingering quiet readers, but please, always feel free (hint hint) to comment. We serious nerdy sorts appreciate the feedback- good or bad. Helps us to improve, don't cha know.

MT


SooooHorny 50M

5/24/2010 10:50 pm

i like this one.
Verde que te qinero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.


[post 2856614]

This is the really small writing... in bold how 'bout RAINBOW colors?


Mariana_Trench_ 50F
4396 posts
5/23/2010 7:12 pm

    Quoting  :

Verde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar
y el caballo en la montaña.
Con la sombra en la cintura
ella sueña en su baranda,
verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fría plata.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Bajo la luna gitana,
las cosas la están mirando
y ella no puede mirarlas.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Grandes estrellas de escarcha
vienen con el pez de sombra
que abre el camino del alba.
La higuera frota su viento
con la lija de sus ramas,
y el monte, gato garduño,
eriza sus pitas agrias.
¿Pero quién vendra? ¿Y por dónde...?
Ella sigue en su baranda,
Verde came, pelo verde,
soñando en la mar amarga.
--Compadre, quiero cambiar
mi caballo por su casa,
mi montura por su espejo,
mi cuchillo per su manta.
Compadre, vengo sangrando,
desde los puertos de Cabra.
--Si yo pudiera, mocito,
este trato se cerraba.
Pero yo ya no soy yo,
ni mi casa es ya mi casa.
--Compadre, quiero morir
decentemente en mi cama.
De acero, si puede ser,
con las sábanas de holanda.
¿No ves la herida que tengo
desde el pecho a la garganta?
--Trescientas rosas morenas
lleva tu pechera blanca.
Tu sangre rezuma y huele
alrededor de tu faja.
Pero yo ya no soy yo,
ni mi casa es ya mi casa.
--Dejadme subir al menos
hasta las altas barandas;
¡dejadme subir!, dejadme,
hasta las verdes barandas.
Barandales de la luna
por donde retumba el agua.
Ya suben los dos compadres
hacia las altas barandas.
Dejando un rastro de sangre.
Dejando un rastro de lágrimas.
Temblaban en los tejados
farolillos de hojalata.
Mil panderos de cristal
herían la madrugada.
Verde que te quiero verde,
verde viento, verdes ramas.
Los dos compadres subieron.
El largo viento dejaba
en la boca un raro gusto
de hiel, de menta y de albahaca.
¡Compadre! ¿Donde está, díme?
¿Donde está tu niña amarga?
¡Cuántas veces te esperó!
¡Cuántas veces te esperara,
cara fresca, negro pelo,
en esta verde baranda!
Sobre el rostro del aljibe
se mecía la gitana.
Verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fría plata.
Un carámbano de luna
la sostiene sobre el agua.
La noche se puso íntima
como una pequeña plaza.
Guardias civiles borrachos
en la puerta golpeaban.
Verde que te qinero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar.
Y el caballo en la montaña.

(But I have no idea how precisely this would sound.)

MT


Mariana_Trench_ 50F
4396 posts
5/21/2010 10:02 pm

    Quoting  :

I wish I could. I found it doing an image search for the word 'gypsy.' I love how it seems to have been tailor-made for this poem.

I love how this poem seems to fit in with my previous post. And I like how his work feels comfortable and yet so very different. I wish I could see how much of that was unique to him, how much a gender thing, how much a cultural thing, and how much a time period thing. It all requires much more thought than I can summon up at 1 am after having worked 14 hours on 4 hours sleep.

My eyes are sort of this color, btw.

MT


Mariana_Trench_ 50F
4396 posts
5/21/2010 9:59 pm

Succinct.

MT


Mariana_Trench_ 50F
4396 posts
5/21/2010 9:59 pm

    Quoting  :

But, baby, I found it in English for you. It's right here, do you want me to read it to you?

MT


Mariana_Trench_ 50F
4396 posts
5/21/2010 9:58 pm

    Quoting  :

Um. Yes I am a poetry junkie?

I mean, yes, I like poetry. To read it, write it, study it, consider it, draw inspiration from it. Is that what you meant?

I am doing some thought for a new piece right now, so I found myself reading Spanish poetry, Hemmingway, Steinbeck, and some information about southern regions of France, Gypsies, Iberia, and Mexico. It's gonna all melt together somehow. You'll see. (I hope...talk the talk, walk the walk)

MT the Ponderer


Mariana_Trench_ 50F
4396 posts
5/21/2010 9:56 pm

    Quoting  :

I would so do you.



MT


benadar 67M
3274 posts
5/21/2010 10:04 am

stirring.


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