Sunday, January 17, 2010


En las últimas esquinas
toqué sus pechos dormidos,
y se me abrieron de pronto
como ramos de jacintos.

In the farthest street corners
I touched her sleeping breasts,
and they opened to me suddenly
like spikes of hyacinth.

(from "The Faithless Wife," trans. Stephen Spender and J. L. Gili)

:: :: :: :: ::

Los relojes se pararon,
y el coñac de las botellas
se disfrazó de noviembre
para no infundir sospechas.

The clocks ceased to strike
and the bottles of brandy,
to arouse no suspicion,
wore the mask of November.

(from "Ballad of the Spanish Civil Guard," trans. A. L. Lloyd)

:: :: :: :: ::

From The Selected Poems of Federico García Lorca (New Directions, 1961), pp. 70-71, 90-91.