Anthology · Classic · Collection · Poetry · Spanish Culture · Spanish Literature

Federico García Lorca

Arbole, Arbole . . . Tree, tree dry and green. The girl with the pretty face is out picking olives. The wind, playboy of towers, grabs her around the waist. Four riders passed by on Andalusian ponies, with blue and green jackets and big, dark capes. “Come to Cordoba, muchacha.” The girl won’t listen to… Continue reading Federico García Lorca

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Anthology · Classic · Collection · Generation of '27 · Modernism · Poetry · Spanish Culture · Spanish Literature

Federico García Lorca

Romance Sonambulo Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea and the horse 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,… Continue reading Federico García Lorca

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Anthology · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Fragment · Generation of '27 · Poetry · Spanish Culture · Spanish Literature

Federico García Lorca

They’ve bought me a shell.          It sings inside a sea on a map. My heart fills up with water with a little fish shadow & silver. They’ve brought me a shell. — Federico García Lorca, “Caracola,” Lorca/Blackburn: Poems of Federico Garcia Lorca chosen and translated by Paul Blackburn. Small Pr Distribution, 1979

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Anthology · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Fragment · Generation of '27 · Passage · Poetry · Spanish Culture · Spanish Literature

Federico García Lorca

As I lose myself in the heart of certain children, I have lost myself in the sea many times. Ignorant of the water I go seeking a death full of light to consume me. — Federico García Lorca, from “Gacela De La Huida (Garcela Of The Flight),” The Selected Poems of Federico García Lorca. Trans.… Continue reading Federico García Lorca

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Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Fragment · Generation of '27 · Poetry · Sonnet · Spanish Culture · Spanish Literature

Federico García Lorca

Lovers in my wound’s landscape, overjoyed, can watch the reeds bend in the crossing currents, can drink from red pools in the honeyed thigh. But hurry, let’s entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed. ― Federico García Lorca, from “Sonnet or the Garden of… Continue reading Federico García Lorca

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