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Of the Dark Doves by Federico Garcia Lorca translated by Sarah Arvio

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Of the Dark Doves by Federico Garcia Lorca translated by Sarah Arvio

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Of the Dark Doves by Federico García Lorca | Poetry Magazine

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The 10 best Spanish writers and their most outstanding works

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The literary scene has been the birthplace of great Spanish writers whose influence has transcended borders and centuries. From the Middle Ages to the present d

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“The Crime Was in Granada” by Antonio Machado translation by Franck Beck

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“The Crime Was in Granada” by Antonio Machado translation by Franck Beck

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Lorca in Montevideo, Uruguay in 1934 To Federico García Lorca I. He was seen walking among the rifles, and then down a long…

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Gacela of the Dark Death by Federico Garcia Lorca translated by Robert Bly

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Gacela of the Dark Death by Federico Garcia Lorca translated by Robert Bly

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In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the street corner
the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the stars.

Nobody is asleep on earth. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
In a graveyard far off there is a corpse
who has moaned for three years
because of a dry countryside on his knee;
and that boy they buried this morning cried so much
it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.

Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful!
We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth
or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead dahlias.
But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.

Another day
we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead
and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats
we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue.
Careful! Be careful! Be careful!
The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm,
and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention of the bridge,
or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe,
we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes are waiting,
where the bear's teeth are waiting,
where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting,
and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder.

Nobody is sleeping in the sky. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is sleeping.
If someone does close his eyes,
a whip, boys, a whip!
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and bitter wounds on fire.
No one is sleeping in this world. No one, no one.
I have said it before.

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In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins. The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream, and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the street corner the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the stars.

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from Poet in New York by Federico Garcia Lorca translation by Shawkat M. Toorawa

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from Poet in New York by Federico Garcia Lorca translation by Shawkat M. Toorawa

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The Search for Lorca's Shadow by Philip Levine

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The Search for Lorca's Shadow by Philip Levine

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Poems, readings, poetry news and the entire 110-year archive of POETRY magazine.

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Born near Granada in Fuente Vaqueros, Spain, to a prosperous farm owner and a pianist, prominent 20th-century Spanish poet and dramatist Federico García Lorca studied law at at the University of Granada before relocating to Madrid in 1919 to focus on his writing. In Madrid he joined a group of avant-garde artists that included Salvador Dali and Luis Buñuel. The group, collectively known as the "Generation of '27," introduced Lorca to Surrealism, a movement that would greatly influence his writing.

Lorca published numerous volumes of poetry during his career, beginning with Impresiones y paisajes (1918). His lyrical work often incorporates elements of Spanish folklore, Andalusian flamenco and Gypsy culture, and cante jondos, or deep songs, while exploring themes of romantic love and tragedy.

With the publication of his poetry collection Romancero Gitano, or Gypsy Ballads (1928), Lorca received significant critical and popular attention, and the following year traveled to New York City, where he found a connection between Spanish deep songs and the African American spirituals he heard in Harlem. When he returned to Spain he co-founded La Barraca, a traveling theater company that performed both Spanish classics and Lorca's original plays, including the well-known Blood Wedding (1933), in small town squares. Despite the threat of a growing fascist movement in his country, Lorca refused to hide his leftist political views, or his homosexuality, while continuing his ascent as a writer.

In August 1936, at the onset of the Spanish Civil War, Lorca was arrested at his country home in Granada by Francisco Franco's soldiers. He was executed by a firing squad a few days later.

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Federico García Lorca | Poetry Foundation

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Born near Granada in Fuente Vaqueros, Spain, to a prosperous farm owner and a pianist, prominent 20th-century Spanish poet and dramatist Federico García Lorca studied law at at the University of Granada before relocating to Madrid in 1919 to focus on his writing. In Madrid he joined a group of...

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Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Meijas by Federico Garcia Lorca translated by Merryn Williams

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Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Meijas by Federico Garcia Lorca translated by Merryn Williams

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Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Meijas by Federico Garcia Lorca translation Merryn Williams

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There is no other poet like him in the history of poetry. Everyone who reads a poem of Lorca's falls in love with him and has a secret friend.

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The Coming Back of an Assassinated Poet by Rafael Alberti 

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The Coming Back of an Assassinated Poet by Rafael Alberti 

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translated by Mark Strand

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The Coming Back of an Assassinated Poet by Rafael Alberti

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Ode to Federico Garcia Lorca by Pablo Neruda translated by Caleb Beissert

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Ode to Federico Garcia Lorca by Pablo Neruda translated by Caleb Beissert

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by Pablo Neruda –English Translation by Caleb Beissert If I could cry out of fear in a lonely house, if I could take out my eyes and eat them, I would do it for your mournful orange tr…

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The World Needed More Lorca by Dean Rader

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The World Needed More Lorca by Dean Rader

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The World Needed More Lorca | Los Angeles Review of Books

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Dean Rader reviews “The Dream of Apples: Selected Poems of Federico García Lorca,” translated by Rebecca Seiferle.

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The Spanish Civil War & Literature: Orwell, Auden, Eliot and Hemingway

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from Lorca: A Dream of Life by Leslie Stainton

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from Lorca: A Dream of Life by Leslie Stainton

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All that has black sounds has duende, and there is no greater truth. These black sounds are the mystery, the roots fastened in the mire that we all know and ignore, the mire that gives us the very substance of art. [Neither angel or muse, both of which may grace an artist from without–the duende emanates from] the remotest mansions of the blood. It wounds an artist. And in the healing of that wound, which never closes, lies the invented, strange qualities of a man’s work.

[Ultimately the duende is linked with death, and dependent on an artist’s acknowledgement of his or her mortality. The duende] does not come at all unless he sees that death is possible.]

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The great artists of the south of Spain, whether Gypsy or flamenco, whether they sing, dance, or play, know that no emotion is possible unless the duende comes. They may be able to fool people into thinking they have duende-authors and painters and literary fashionmongers do so every day—but we have only to pay a little attention and not surrender to indifference in order to discover the fraud and chase away their clumsy artifice.

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from Lorca's Play and Theory of the Duende

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from Lorca's Play and Theory of the Duende

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The Duende, then, is a power, not a work. It is a struggle, not a thought. I have heard an old maestro of the guitar say, "The duende is not in the throat; the duende climbs up inside you, from the soles of the feet," Meaning this: it is not a question of ability but of true, living style, of blood, of the most ancient culture, of spontaneous creation. This "mysterious power which everyone senses and no philosopher explains" is, in sum, the spirit of the earth.

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For Federico Garcia Lorca by Rafael Alberti translated by A.S.Klein

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For Federico Garcia Lorca by Rafael Alberti translated by A.S.Klein

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Sal tú, bebiendo campos y ciudades,

en largo ciervo de agua convertido,

hacia el mar de las albas claridades,

del martín-pescador mecido nido;

que yo saldré a esperarte, amortecido,

hecho junco, a las altas soledades,

herido por el aire y requerido

por tu voz, sola entre las tempestades.

Deja que escriba, débil junco frío,

mi nombre en esas aguas corredoras,

que el viento llama, solitario, río.

Disuelto ya en tu nieve el nombre mío,

vuélvete a tus montañas trepadoras,

ciervo de espuma, rey del monterío.

Go, drinking fields and cities,

Transformed to a great deer of water,

Be the ocean of bright dawns,

The kingfisher's nest on the waves.

That I might go on hoping for you, deadened,

A done reed, in the high solitudes,

Wounded by the air, and needing

Your voice, alone among the storms.

Leave me to write, frail cold reed,

My name in the running water,

Let the wind cry, solitary, river.

My name dissolved now in your snows,

Turn again to your upland slopes,

Deer of spray, king of the mountain stream.

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Alberti, Rafael: For Federico García Lorca (A Federico García Lorca in English)

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Sal tú, bebiendo campos y ciudades, en largo ciervo de agua convertido, hacia el mar de las albas claridades, del martín-pescador mecido nido; que yo saldré a esperarte, amortecido, hecho junco, a las altas soledades, herido por el aire y requerido por tu voz, sola entre las tempestades.

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Federico García Lorca, Spain’s greatest modern poet and dramatist, was murdered by Fascist partisans in 1936, shortly after the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War. He was by then and immensely popular figure, celebrated throughout the Spanish-speaking world, and at the height of his creative powers. After his death, with his work suppressed, he became a potent symbol of the martyrdom of Spain.The manuscript of Lorca’s last poems, his tormented Sonnets of Dark Love, disappeared during the Civil War. For fifty years the poems lived only in the words of the poets who had heard Lorca read them, like Neruda and Aleixandre, who remembered them as ‘a pure and ardent monument to love in which the prime material is now the poet’s flesh, his heart, his soul wide open to his own destruction’. Lorca’s lost sonnets were re-discovered in Spain during the 1980s, and the Bloodaxe edition of his Selected Poems (1992/2021), translated by Merryn Williams, was the first to include English translations of these brooding poems.

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Romance Sonambulo by Federico Garcia Lorca translated by William Bryant Logan

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Romance Sonambulo by Federico Garcia Lorca translated by William Bryant Logan

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In the parched path
I have seen the good lizard
(one drop of crocodile)
meditating.
With his green frock-coat
of an abbot of the devil,
his correct bearing
and his stiff collar,
he has the sad air
of an old professor.
Those faded eyes
of a broken artist,
how they watch the afternoon
in dismay!

Is this, my friend,
your twilight constitutional?
Please use your cane,
you are very old, Mr.

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Romance Sonámbulo - Green, how I want you green.