La Guitarra
Empieza el llantode la guitarra.
Se rompen las copasde la madrugada.
Empieza el llanto de la guitarra.
Es inútil callarla.
Es imposiblecallarla.
Llora monótonacomo llora el agua,como llora el vientosobre la nevada.
Es imposiblecallarla.
Llora por cosaslejanas.
Arena del Sur calienteque pide camelias blancas.
Llora flecha sin blanco,la tarde sin mañana,y el primer pájaro muertosobre la rama.¡Oh guitarra!
Corazón malheridopor cinco espadas.
English
The
The weeping of the guitarbegins.
The goblets of dawnare smashed.
The weeping of the guitarbegins.
Uselessto silence it.
Impossibleto silence it.
It weeps monotonouslyas water weepsas the wind weepsover snowfields.
Impossibleto silence it.
It weeps for distantthings.
Hot southern sandsyearning for white camellias.
Weeps arrow without targetevening without morningand the first dead birdon the branch.
Oh, guitar!
Heart mortally woundedby five swords.english translation:
Cola Franzen,
Farrar,
Straus and Giroux
Federico Garcia Lorca
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