anterior    aleatorio / random   autor / author   inicio / home   siguiente / next



  The night is coming.

The moonlight strikes
on evening’s anvil.

  The night is coming.

A giant tree clothes itself
in the leaves of cantos.

  The night is coming.

If you came to see me,
on the path of storm-winds....

  The night is coming. would find me crying,
under high, black poplars.
Ay, girl with the dark hair!
Under high, black poplars.


Federico García Lorca
Translation by A. S. Kline

¹ A remanso is a still pool in running water, the liquid calm that is not swept on by the flow. I have translated remanso elsewhere to signify what remains, as Lorca’s spirit remains, in the body of his poems.

subir   poema aleatorio   Suites (1920-1923)   siguiente / next   anterior / previous
español Original version