English
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind.
Green branches.
The ship out on the seaand the horse on the mountain.
With the shade around her waist she dreams on her balcony, green flesh, her hair green, with eyes of cold silver.
Green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon, all things are watching her and she cannot see them.
Green, how I want you green.
Big hoarfrost stars come with the fish of shadow that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs its wind with the sandpaper of its branches, and the forest, cunning cat, bristles its brittle fibers.
But who will come?
And from where?
She is still on her balcony green flesh, her hair green, dreaming in the bitter sea.—My friend,
I want to trade my horse for her house, my saddle for her mirror, my knife for her blanket.
My friend,
I come bleeding from the gates of Cabra.—If it were possible, my boy,
I'd help you fix that trade.
But now I am not I, nor is my house now my house.—My friend,
I want to diedecently in my bed.
Of iron, if that's possible, with blankets of fine chambray.
Don't you see the wound I have from my chest up to my throat?—Your white shirt has grown thirsy dark brown roses.
Your blood oozes and flees around the corners of your sash.
But now I am not I, nor is my house now my house.—Let me climb up, at least, up to the high balconies;
Let me climb up!
Let me, up to the green balconies.
Railings of the moon through which the water rumbles.
Now the two friends climb up, up to the high balconies.
Leaving a trail of blood.
Leaving a trail of teardrops.
Tin bell vineswere trembling on the roofs.
A thousand crystal tambourines struck at the dawn light.
Green, how I want you green, green wind, green branches.
The two friends climbed up.
The stiff wind left in their mouths, a strange taste of bile, of mint, and of basil My friend, where is she—tell me—where is your bitter girl?
How many times she waited for you!
How many times would she wait for you, cool face, black hair, on this green balcony!
Over the mouth of the cisternthe gypsy girl was swinging, green flesh, her hair green, with eyes of cold silver.
An icicle of moonholds her up above the water.
The night became intimate like a little plaza.
Drunken "Guardias Civiles"were pounding on the door.
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind.
Green branches.
The ship out on the sea.
And the horse on the mountain.
Translated by William
Original Spanish Verde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mary el caballo en la montaña.
Con la sombra en la cinturaella sueña en sus baranda,verde carne, pelo verde,con ojos de fría plata.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Bajo la luna gitana,las cosas la están mirandoy ella no puede mirarlas. Verde que te quiero verde.
Grandes estrellas de escarcha,vienen con el pez de sombraque abre el camino del alba.
La higuera frota su vientocon la lija de sus ramas,y el monte, gato garduño,eriza sus pitas agrias.¿Pero quién vendrá? ¿Y por dónde…?
Ella sigue en su baranda,verde carne, pelo verde,soñando en la mar amarga. Compadre, quiero cambiarmi caballo por su casa,mi montura por su espejo,mi cuchillo por su manta.
Compadre, vengo sangrando,desde los puertos de Cabra.
Si yo pudiera, mocito,este trato se cerraba.
Pero yo ya no soy yo,
Ni mi casa es ya mi casa.
Compadre, quiero morirdecentemente en mi cama.
De acero, si puede ser,con las sábanas de holanda.¿No ves la herida que tengodesde el pecho a la garganta?
Trescientas rosas morenaslleva tu pechera blanca.
Tu sangre rezuma y huelealrededor de tu faja.
Pero yo ya no soy yo.
Ni mi casa es ya mi casa.
Dejadme subir al menoshasta las altas barandas,¡dejadme subir!, dejadmehasta las verdes barandas.
Barandales de la lunapor donde retumba el agua. Ya suben los dos compadreshacia las altas barandas.
Dejando un rastro de sangre.
Dejando un rastro de lágrimas.
Temblaban en los tejadosfarolillos de hojalata.
Mil panderos de cristal,herían la madrugada. Verde que te quiero verde,verde viento, verdes ramas.
Los dos compadres subieron.
El largo viento, dejabaen la boca un raro gustode hiel, de menta y de albahaca.¡Compadre! ¿Dónde está, dime?¿Dónde está tu niña amarga?¡Cuántas veces te esperó!¡Cuántas veces te esperara,cara fresca, negro pelo,en esta verde baranda! Sobre el rostro del aljibese mecía la gitana.
Verde carne, pelo verde,con ojos de fría plata.
Un carábano de lunala sostiene sobre el agua.
La noche se puso íntimacomo una pequeña plaza.
Guardias civiles borrachosen la puerta golpeaban.
