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    SONNET OF THE SWEET COMPLAINT

Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.

I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my despair.

If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone my master,

never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.

autógrafo

Federico García Lorca
Translators: John K. Walsh and Francisco Aragón


subir volver Sonetos (1929-1935)   siguiente anterior
manuscrito Manuscrito:   1/2   2/2
inglés Translation by A. S. Kline
español Versión original
aumentar tamaño letra reducir tamaño letra poema aleatorio

Incluido en http://www.boppin.com/lorca/sonnet.html.