The Selected Poems (New Directions Paperbook)
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The Selected Poems of Federico García Lorca has introduced generations of American readers to mesmerizing poetry since 1955. Lorca (1898-1937) is admired all over the world for the lyricism, immediacy and clarity of his poetry, as well as for his ability to encompass techniques of the symbolist movement with deeper psychological shadings. But Lorca's poems are, most of all, admired for their beauty. Undercurrents of his major influences--Spanish folk traditions from his native Andalusia and Granada, gypsy ballads, and his friends the surrealists Salvador Dali and Luis Bunuel--stream throughout Lorca's work. Poets represented here as translators are as diverse as Stephen Spender, Langston Hughes, Ben Belitt, William Jay Smith, and W.S. Merwin.
T h e Selected Poems of Federico Garcia Lorca 3 s~d C ALSO BY FEDERICO GARCfA LORCA Three Tragedies Selected Letters The Public and Play Without a Title Five Plays: Comedies and Tragicomedies Deep Song and Other Prose The Cricket Sings ABOUT FEDERICO GARCfA LORCA In the Green Morning: Memories of Federico by Francisco Garcia Lorca The Selected Poems o f Federico Garcia Lorca Edited by Francisco Garcia Lorca and Donald M. Allen A New Directions Paperbook Copyright © 1955 by N ew
han crecido, y un horizonte de perros ladra muy lejos del no. Pasadas las zarzamoras, los j uncos y los espinos, bajo su mata de pelo hice un hoyo sobre el limo. Yo me quite la corbata. Ella se quito el vestido. Yo el cinturon con revolver. Ella sus cuatro corpinos. N i nardos ni caracolas tienen el cutis tan fino, ni los cristales con luna relumbran con ese brillo. Sus muslos se me escapaban como peces sorprendidos, but she already had a husband. It was on Saint James’s night and almost as if
tambourine. When the moon rises, the pulleys will turn to disturb the sky: a boundary of needles will fence in the memory and the coffins will carry away those who do not work. New York of slime, New York of wires and death: What angel do you carry hidden in your cheek? What perfect voice will tell the truths of the wheat? Who, the terrible dream of your stained anemones? N ot for one moment, beautiful aged Walt Whitman, have I failed to see your beard full of butterflies, nor your shoulders of
out still upon the silken white divan. And the boy, rigid, geometric, broke the mirror with an axe. When it broke, one huge stream of shadow flooded his chimeric chamber. EDW IN HONIG N ARCISSUS Narcissus. Your fragrance. And the depth of the stream. 55 Quiero quedarme a tu vera. Flor del amor. Narciso. Por tus blancos ojos cruzan ondas y peces dormidos. Pajaros y mariposas japonizan en los mfos. Tu diminuto y yo grande. Flor del amor. Narciso. Las ranas ;que listas son! Pero no dejan
no quede mas que el rumor. Aroma. Aunque no quede mas que el aroma. Pero arranca de mi el recuerdo y el color de las viejas horas. 60 At times one sees it crossing, diminished, in his eyes. Being seaman he forgets bars and oranges. He looks at the water. 2 He had a soapy tongue. He washed his words and was still. Level world, hilly sea, a hundred stars and his ship. He saw the balconies of the Pope and the golden breasts of the Cuban girls. He looks at the water. DONALD JE N K S DESIRE OF A