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García Lorca, Federico: Gacela of the Dark Death (Gacela de la muerte oscura in English)

Portre of García Lorca, Federico

Gacela de la muerte oscura (Spanish)

Quiero dormir el sueńo de las manzanas

alejarme del tumulto de los cementerios.

Quiero dormir el sueńo de aquel nińo

que quería cortarse el corazón en alta mar.

 

No quiero que me repitan que los muertos no pierden la sangre;

que la boca podrida sigue pidiendo agua.

No quiero enterarme de los martirios que da la hierba,

ni de la luna con boca de serpiente

que trabaja antes del amanecer.

 

Quiero dormir un rato,

un rato, un minuto, un siglo;

pero que todos sepan que no he muerto;

que haya un establo de oro en mis labios;

que soy un pequeńo amigo del viento Oeste;

que soy la sombra inmensa de mis lágrimas.

 

Cúbreme por la aurora con un velo,

porque me arrojará puńados de hormigas,

y moja con agua dura mis zapatos

para que resbale la pinza de su alacrán.

 

Porque quiero dormir el sueńo de las manzanas

para aprender un llanto que me limpie de tierra;

porque quiero vivir con aquel nińo oscuro

que quería cortarse el corazón en alta mar.



Source of the quotationhttp://www.tinet.cat

Gacela of the Dark Death (English)

   I want to sleep the sleep of the apples,

I want to get far away from the busyness of the cemeteries.

I want to sleep the sleep of that child

who longed to cut his heart open far out at sea.

 

   I don't want them to tell me again how the corpse keeps all its blood,

how the decaying mouth goes on begging for water.

I'd rather not hear about the torture sessions the grass arranges for

nor about how the moon does all its work before dawn

with its snakelike nose.

 

   I want to sleep for half a second,

a second, a minute, a century,

but I want everyone to know that I am still alive,

that I have a golden manger inside my lips,

that I am the little friend of the west wind,

that I am the elephantine shadow of my own tears.

 

   When it's dawn just throw some sort of cloth over me

because I know dawn will toss fistfuls of ants at me,

and pour a little hard water over my shoes

so that the scorpion claws of the dawn will slip off.

 

   Because I want to sleep the sleep of the apples,

and learn a mournful song that will clean all earth away from me,

because I want to live with that shadowy child

who longed to cut his heart open far out at sea.



Source of the quotationhttp://www.poets.org

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