Gacela del mercado matutino
Por el arco de Elvira
quiero verte pasar,
para saber tu nombre
y ponerme a llorar.
¿Qué luna gris de las nueve
te desangró la mejilla?
¿Quién recoge tu semilla
de llamarada en la nieve?
¿Qué alfiler de cactus breve
asesina tu cristal?
Por el arco de Elvira
voy a verte pasar,
para beber tus ojos
y ponerme a llorar.
¡Qué voz para mi castigo
levantas por el mercado!
¡Qué clavel enajenado
en los montones de trigo!
¡Qué lejos estoy contigo,
qué cerca cuando te vas!
Por el arco de Elvira
voy a verte pasar,
para sentir tus muslos
y ponerme a llorar.
Gacela of the morning market
Through the arch of Elvira
I want to watch you go by,
to ask you your name
and to break down and cry.
What grey nine o'clock moon
has bled your cheek?
Who is collecting your seed
that flashes in the snow?
What short cactus needle
is murdering your crystal?
Through the arch of Elvira
I'm going to watch you go by,
to drink in your eyes
and to break down and cry.
What a voice for my punishment
do you raise in the market!
What an outlandish carnation
in the piles of wheat!
How distant I am with you,
how close when you leave!
Through the arch of Elvira
I'm going to watch you go by,
to feel the touch of your thighs
and to break down and cry.
Translated by Simon AndrewesEtiquetas: Federico García Lorca |
Gacela of the Morning Market
Under the Elvira arch
let me see you pass
that I may learn your name
and cry.
What pale moon at nine
bled your cheek white?
Who gathers up the seed
that sets its snow aflame?
What tiny cactus spike
shatters your glass?
Under the Elvira arch
let me see you pass
that I may lap your eyes
and cry.
How it chastens me,
the market-call you raise!
What odd carnation, you,
amid the piles of wheat!
How far you are when close!
How near to me when gone!
Under the Elvira arch
let me see you pass
that I may suffer your thighs
and cry.
Translated by Michael Smith