Posts Tagged ‘Federico Garcia Lorca

09
Jul
13

Federico García Lorca’s “Dos lunas de tarde” (a translation)

Federico García Lorca’s poem appears in Canciones, 1921-1924 (Songs, 1921-1924).
//

Dos lunas de tarde

1
   (A Laurita, amiga de mi hermana )

La luna está muerta, muerta;
pero resucita en la primavera.

Cuando en la frente de los chopos
se rice el viento del Sur.

Cuando den nuestros corazones
su cosecha de suspiros.

Cuando se pongan los tejados
sus sombreritos de yerba.

La luna está muerta, muerta;
pero resucita en la primavera.

2
   (A Isabelita, mi hermana )

La tarde canta
una <<berceuse>> a las naranjas.

Mi hermanita canta:
<<La tierra es una naranja>>.

La luna llorando dice:
<<Yo quiero ser una naranja>>.

No puede ser, hija mía,
aunque te pongas rosada.
Ni siquiera limoncito.
¡Qué lástima!

//
//

Two Evening Moons

1
   (to Laurita, my sister’s friend)

The moon is dead, is dead,
but in spring is resurrected.

When the fronts of the poplars
rustle in the southern wind.

When our hearts relinquish
their harvest of sighs.

When rooftops wear
their grass sombreros.

The moon is dead, is dead,
but in spring is resurrected.

2
   (to Isabelita, my sister)

The evening sings
a lullaby to oranges.

My sister sings:
“The earth is an orange.”

The crying moon says:
“I want to be an orange.”

You cannot be, my child,
even if you become a rose.
Not even a little lemon.
Oh, what a pity it is!

//

08
Jul
13

Federico García Lorca’s “Despedida” (a translation)

Federico García Lorca’s poem appears in Canciones, 1921-1924 (Songs, 1921-1924).
//

Despedida

Si muero,
dejad el balcón abierto.

El niño come naranjas.
(Desde mi balcón lo veo).

El segador siega el trigo.
(Desde mi balcón lo siento).

¡Si muero,
dejad el balcón abierto!

//
//

Farewell

If I die,
leave the balcony doors open.

A boy eats oranges.
(From my balcony, I see him.)

The reaper reaps the wheat.
(From my balcony, I’m sorry to hear him.)

If I die,
leave the balcony doors open!

//

07
Jul
13

Federico García Lorca’s “La luna asoma” (a translation)

Federico García Lorca’s poem appears in Canciones, 1921-1924 (Songs, 1921-1924).
//

La luna asoma

Cuando sale la luna
se pierden las campanas
y aparecen las sendas
impenetrables.

Cuando sale la luna,
el mar cubre la tierra
y el corazón se siente
isla en el infinito.

Nadie come naranjas
bajo la luna llena.
Es preciso comer
fruta verde y helada.

Cuando sale la luna
de cien rostros iguales,
la moneda de plata
solloza en el bolsillo.

//
//

The Looming Moon

When the moon rises
bells fade
and impenetrable paths
appear.

When the moon rises,
the ocean covers the earth
and the heart feels
as an island within infinity.

No one eats oranges
under the full moon.
One must eat
green fruit and ice.

When the moon rises
with his hundred identical faces,
the silver coin
within his pocket weeps.

//

06
Jul
13

Federico García Lorca’s “Cancioncilla del primer deseo” (a translation)

Federico García Lorca’s poem appears in Canciones, 1921-1924 (Songs, 1921-1924).

//

Cancioncilla del primer deseo

En la mañana verde,
quería ser corazón.
Corazón.

Y en la tarde madura
quería ser ruiseñor.
Ruiseñor.

   (Alma,
ponte color naranja!
¡Alma,
ponte color de amor.)

En la mañana viva,
yo quería ser yo.
Corazón.

Y en la tarde caída
quería ser mi voz.
Ruiseñor.

   ¡Alma,
ponte color naranja!
¡Alma,
ponte color de amor!

//
//

Ditty of the First Wish

In the green morning,
I want to be a heart.
A heart.

And in the mature afternoon,
I want to be a nightingale.
A nightingale.

   (Soul,
transform to orange.
Soul,
become the color of love.)

In the ripe morning
I want to be me.
A heart.

And in the late night,
I want to be my voice.
A nightingale.

   Soul,
transmute to orange!
Soul,
become the color of love!

//

30
Dec
12

Melissa Kwasny’s Toward the Open Field: Poets on the Art of Poetry, 1800-1850 (2004)

Over the next few weeks or months, I will post all my reviews (“Tom’s Celebrations”) that appeared in Redactions: Poetry, Poetics, & Prose (formerly Redactions: Poetry & Poetics) up to and including issue 12. After that, my reviews appeared here (The Line Break) before appearing in the journal. This review first appeared in issue 4/5, which was published circa early 2005.

//

Melissa Kwasny's – Toward the Open FieldMelissa Kwasny has compiled a collection of worthy essays by poets on free verse, or the movement toward free verse, beginning with William Wordsworth’s “Preface to the Lyrical Ballads” & up to & including Charles Olson’s “Projective Verse.” As with all anthologies, there should be some surprises, or unique opportunities that are seized, & both are had here. Included in this collection are two often overlooked essays: “Modern Poetry” by Mina Loy & “The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain” by Langston Hughes. But that is not what makes this anthology a unique & exciting collection of poetics. What puts this anthology over the top & is it contains essays from poets of non-English languages, including Charles Baudelaire, Arthur Rimbaud, Stéphane Mallarmé, André Breton, Federico García Lorca, Paul Valéry, & Aimé Césaire. Kwasny’s Toward the Open Field: Poets on the Art of Poetry, 1800-1950  (Wesleyan University Press, 2004) also comes with a decent “Selected Bibliography” for other sources of essays on poetics, but it does lack an index.

I recommend this anthology for every poet’s library as a great reference & to remind us of where we came from & what we are trying to do. I also strongly urge that every MFA program across the land incorporate this anthology into their creative writing poetry classes, as a historical primer for free verse. This anthology is too beneficial for our younger poets to overlook. I do hope another volume comes out that features more essays from 1950-2000 by more contemporary poets. There is always growth in poetry, & there has been significant growth since 1950.//

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Kwasny, Melissa. Toward the Open Field: Poets on the Art of Poetry, 1800-1950. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 2004.//

10
Jun
10

in pursuit of the juiciest wine: day seventeen

Ramirez de la Piscina Crianza 2005

Ramirez de la Piscina Crianza 2005. From my window facing east.

It’s Thursday night, ya bastids, and you know what that means – new wine night. And I’m in a good mood. It was gray and cloudy all day with some sprinkles every now and then. (By the way, “gray” is grayer when you spell it with an “a,” so says Elizabeth Bishop.) But this wine is not gray. No no. The label at the store said it had undertones of bacon. As a new vegetarian, I look forward to tasting some bacon.  

Guitar Hollow

The soul of Spain.

Some quick research tells me the Ramirez de la Piscina Crianza 2005 is a Tempranillo. Tempranillo – they might as well call it Duende, because it tastes like the soul of Spain. It reminds me of the hollow of a guitar, which I think is the soul of Spain.  

So now the sun is out, but I won’t let that ruin the mood because I’ll just get a glass and pour me some Duende.  

It’s barely transparent, like 80 percent opaque. Man, it even looks like the blood of Spain. All cool and smooth and light ruby. It emanates royalty, and the tall meniscus must be its crown.  

I don’t smell any bacon, but I smell peppery pancetta with a wave of raspberry behind it. Down below it all I can smell some plums dripping with juice. I think there are some cherries, too. Is that strawberries. And some vanilla. Yum. And a leathery, peppery finish. There’s also some tarragon and red licorice. It’s a front-of-the-mouth and back-of-the-throat experience. 

Federico García Lorca

Federico García Lorca (shaven).

The longer it sits the juicier it gets.

It’s dry and juicy.

It reminds me a of a young, aggressive, and unshaven Federico García Lorca. I don’t know if Lorca ever had facial hair, but if he did, he’d be drinking this wine. With this wine, some facial scruff, and his poetry, he would have so many men.  

Now, I want to find a wine for Juan Ramón Jiménez.  

The search begins.//

30
Apr
10

in pursuit of the juiciest wine: day two

Red GuitarAnd the tour began with a textbook POP as the cork was released from a bottle of Red Guitar Old Vine Tempranillo Garnacha 2007 from Navarra, Spain. It’s a blend of 55% Tempranillo and 45% Garnacha, and I think those are some of the juiciest grapes around. I shall see if this is true in Red Guitar, too.

Tonight is also the last night that my girlfriend and I will eat out or order out food for a month. I think tonight we will order out some Chinese food. But for now, it’s off to the tasting.

This wine is slightly transparent when held up to a white wall. It smells juicy and of alcohol . . .  lots of alcohol. A hint of pepper, too.  Oddly, it also has a hint of vomit in the nose, but it’s not unpleasant because there are some dark plums blooming in the background along with some sour cherries. The more I swirl in air, the more the plums and cherries surface and the vomit disappears.

I got this wine for a few reasons. I haven’t had it, it’s from Spain, it’s a Tempranillo and Garnacha blend, and it has a red guitar on the label. This added up to the embodiment of Spain to me, and I expected to taste a little bit of Federico Garcia Lorca in it. I just didn’t expect it to be Lorca’s poem “Landscape of a Vomiting Multitude.”

Okay. It’s been open for about a half-hour, and I’ve been swirling for about 10 minutes. The vomit is gone, or I’ve become accustomed to it. So here goes the first sip.

It’s quite smooth. It has a round body. On the front of the tongue, it’s juicy. On the back, it’s sour . . . sour cherries. I don’t taste the vomit. I do taste cloves and maybe nutmeg. Some type of spicy berry, as well.

It’s a bit juicy, but not juicy enough for this tour. I still like this wine somewhat. It is a good accompaniment to the saxophonist playing outside in the 75-degree calm evening on Main Street, Brockport.

It’s getting better and better as it opens, but it doesn’t open enough. I’d get Red Guitar again, maybe, but only because of the price.//




The Cave (Winner of The Bitter Oleander Press Library of Poetry Book Award for 2013.)

The Cave

Poems for an Empty Church

Poems for an Empty Church

The Oldest Stone in the World

The Oldest Stone in the Wolrd

Henri, Sophie, & The Hieratic Head of Ezra Pound: Poems Blasted from the Vortex

Henri, Sophie, & The Hieratic Head of Ezra Pound: Poems Blasted from the Vortex

Pre-Dew Poems

Pre-Dew Poems

Negative Time

Negative Time

After Malagueña

After Malagueña

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