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Federico Garcia Lorca

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Th Tuyn: Federico Garcia Lorca Phn 1 v 2

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Chuyn Th
Ngu Yn khng phi l dch gi chuyn. Ch l ngi thch c th v tm hiu th ca. c th c su mt bi th ngoi, cch hay nht l chuyn sang th Vit. Va hc thm sinh ng, va luyn thm ngn ng Vit Nam, va nghin ngm c s khc bit ca tm hn, va hc hi phong tc tp qun, cch sng ca dn tc khc. Nht l thng thc ti nng thin ph vi cm ngh tht l l k. Mi ti nng l mi kinh ngc v thn phc. chuyn sang th Vit, Ngu Yn thng dng hai giai on. Nu bi th vit bng Anh ng, s c chuyn sang bn nhp theo st ngha ri so vi nguyn bn. Sau , vit li bn chnh theo cm nhn. Nu l nhng bi th ngn hoc n gin, nu bit c ngn ng nguyn bn, s chuyn thng t ngn ng ny. Nu bi th ngoi phc tp hoc kh hiu, c dch sang ting Anh, giai on u l tm vi bn dch ting Anh khc nhau ca nhiu dch gi. Ghi ch nhng cu hoc nhng on dch khc bit ri em so vi nguyn bn ca ngn ng gc tm hiu v sao cc dch gi li dch khc nhau. Nhng t cng nh ngn ng khc nhau ca cc dch gi cng v mt vn s gip cho ngi c c tm nhn a dng. V d tip cn vi nhng suy t ca tc gi qua nhiu cch nhn ca nhiu dch gi. Sau vit thnh mt bi nhp. Ct theo st ngha ca ch. Giai on th hai l nghin ngm t ca bi th ri t bn nhp vit li thnh bi th khc theo s cm nhn ring t. Chnh v s cm nhn ny nn khng th gi l chuyn ng, cng khng th gi l dch, nn Ngu Yn xin gi l Chuyn Th. Ni sao i na, dch ch c th hiu theo ngha tng i. Dch c ch, khng chc dch c ngha. Dch c ch v ngha, khng chc dch c ng lc. Dch c ng lc, khng chc dch c cu trc. Dch c cu trc, khng chc dch c phong cnh vn chng v vn ha. Nu dch c tt c, chc chn l v phng. Nhng thi s ln u l nhng c tnh v ti nng c th. Kin thc, kinh nghim, trc gic v kh nng nhy cm ca h thng tm cao . Cch din t ca h i khi hon ton khng th hiu ni. V vy vic chuyn th, nht l nhng bi th phc tp, l vic y ch quan v d sai lm. Cc v c kh nng sinh ng cao, c kin lc v th, xin ty nghi ch im. Ngu Yn xin c trn trng n nhn v hc hi. Mt trong nhng ci th ln nht trong i ngi l c bit nhng iu mnh khng bit. Ti a ch email: nguyen112052@gmail.com.

 chuyn th Federico Garcia Lorca, Ngu Yn s dng hai bn chnh bng ting Anh c bn nguyn t ting Ty Ban Nha: The Poetical Works Of Federico Garcia Lorce. Selected Verse. Edited by Christopher Maurer. Volume III. Farrar Straus Giroux, New York. The Selected Poems Of Federico Garcia Lorca. Edited by Francisco Garcia Lorca & Donlad M. Allen. A New Direction Paperbook. 1955

Nhng bi th c dch sang ting Anh ca cc dch gi khc, tm thy trn mng li hoc trong nhng tuyn tp in, Ngu Yn xin chp vo y tin vic so cu v sau. Sng lu th gi tui. Sau ny c li d sa sai hn. Th ca Federico Garcia Lorca i t tng trng qua siu thc. Nhng tp th u, ng s dng nhiu th th truyn thng Ty Ban Nha hoc nhng th ca cc ca khc dn tc. Ngu yn s chuyn th ng sang cc th th quen thuc ca ngi Vit, c nhc iu, tit tu; c vn ni hoc vn ngm; c vn m hoc vn cch trong cc th th nh: Lc Bt, bn ch, nm ch, by ch, tm ch...v...v... l nhng tp th: Libro de poemas. Tuyn Tp Th. Poema del cane jondo. Th T Ca Khc Thm Trm. Suites. T Khc Th. Canciones. Ca Khc Th. Primer romancero gitano. Tnh Ca Du Mc Gypsy. Divn del tamarit. Trng K Tamarit.

Xen ln trong nhng tp th ny l nhng bi th t do, nht l trong nhng tp th v sau nh: Poeta en Nueva Rork, Thi S trong Thnh Ph New York v trng ca Llanto por Ignacio Sanchez Mejas, iu Ca cho Ignacio Sanchez Mejas, ng s dng li vit t ng, ng thut ca phi Siu Thc v t to cho ng mt th cch ring. Ngu Yn xin c chuyn th sang th th t do c gng theo kp dng th bt tn v bin ha ca ng. Federici Garcia Lorca l mt trong nhng thi s quan trng trong thi ca th gii ca th k 20. Mt d, i sng ca ng kh ngn ngi nhng sc sng tc ca ng rt di do. Nh ng vit na tp Ca Khc Th trong vng 10 ngy. ng b thm st vo nm 48 tui. li nhiu bi th
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v nhng trng ca gi tr. Ngoi ra ng cn hng say trong kch ngh sn khu v v nhng bc tranh dng siu thc. Ngu Yn xin ng li mt s bc tranh ca ng, nhng t liu v sn khu v nh km nhng link gii thiu nhng trnh din v th ca Federico Garcia Lorca qu bn tin thng thc. Xin cm t. Ngu Yn Houston, cui nm Nhm Thn, 2013. Sau y l bn NHP. S c sa cha theo thi gian v theo s ng gp cng nh s ch gio ca ngi c.

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Xin c c bit cm n: Ha S Tng P. Cng. Aciano Pizano. Rafael Mrquez.

Mc Lc
Phn 1. 003. Chuyn Th 006. Mc Lc 014. c Th 016. T y Lun: Federico Garcia Lorca: Ng Lc v Tc Phm Phn 1. 062. Tuyn Tp Th. LIBRO DE POEMAS. 063. Con Tim Mi. Corazn Nuevo. New Heart. 066. Chong Chng Gi. Veleta. Weathervane. 075. Cy. rboles. 077. Gi Khc Ca Sao m Hora de estrellas. Hour of Stars. 079. m Nhc Khng Ha iu. El Concierto Interrumpido. The Interrupted Concert. 082. Bi Ca Mi. Cantos Nuevos. New Songs. . 086. Mt Tri Ln. Seha Puesto El Sol. The Sun Has Set. 090. Bi Ca Nc Bin. La Balada del Agua Mar. Ballard of The Watter of The Sea. 094 .Bi Ca V Qung Trng Nh. Balada de la Placeta. Ballad of The Little Square. 104. Th T Ca Khc Thm Trm. POEMA DEL CANTE JONDO. Th Trong Nhp iu Siguiriya ca Gypsy. De Poema de la Siguiriya Gitana. 105. Cnh Tng. Paisaje. Landscape. 109. n Ghi-ta. La Guitarra. The Guitar. 114. Ting Khc. El Grito. The Cry. 117. Im Lng. El Silencio. The Silence. 118. Hnh Trnh Nhc iu Siguiriy. El Paso de La Siguiriya. The passsage of The Siguiriya. 121.V Sau. Despus de Pasar. Afterwards. 123. V Ri. Y Despus. And Then. 125. Th Trong iu Nhc Sole. De Poema de La Sole. 127. Dao gm. Pual. Dagger. 129. Hang ng. Cueva. Cave. 6

131. Th V Mi Tn. Poema de La Saeta. 131. m Rc.Procesin. Procession. 133. Mi Tn. Saeta. Arrow. 135. Trc Bui Bnh Minh. Madrugada. Before Dawn. 137. Minh Ha Nhc iu Petenera. De Grfico de La petenera. 137. Ting Chung. Campana. Bell. 139. n Su Dy. Las Seis Cuerdas. The Six Strings 141. De Vinetas Flamencas. T pht Ha Nhc Flamengo. 141. Juan Breva. Juan Breva. Juan Breva. 143. Qun Nhc. Caf Cantante. 145. Ba Ch. Conjuro. Exorcism. 147.K Nim. Memento. Memento. 149. Ba Thnh Ph. De Tres Ciudales. 149. Malaguena. Malaguena. Malaguena. 151.Hng Xm Crdoba. Barrio de Crdoba. Neighborhood of Crdoba. Bi ri. 153.Cp G Castanet. Crtalo. Castanet. 155. m. Noche. 157.Bc Chn. Paso. 159. T Khc Th. SUITES. 160. T Khc Tm Gng Soi. La Suite de Los Espejos. 160. Tng Trng. Simbolo. 162. Gng Soi Bao La. El Gran Espejo. The Giant Mirror. 163. Phn nh. Reflejo. Reflection. 164. Tia Sng. Rayos. Rays. 165. Bn Nhi. Rplica. Replica. 166.Ci Trn. Tierra. Earth. 168. Ty Hng Ca. Capricho. Capriccio. 170. Nht o. Shinto. Shinto. 172. i Mt. Los Ojos. Eyes. 7

174. Sng Th. Initium. 175. Bi Ru Ng Tm Gng. Berceuse Al Espejo Dormido. Berceuse For A Sleeping Mirror. 177.Khng gian. Aire. Air 178. Ln Ln. Confusin. Confusion. 181. Ni Tch Mch. emanso. The Pool. 183. T Khc m. Noche. 183. Phc Ha. Rasgos. 185. Do Khc. Preludio 186. Trong Mt Gc Tri. Rincn del Cielo. 187.Ton Th. Total. 188. Ngi Sao. Un lucero. 189.Li Mn. Franja. 190. Mt. Una. 191. M. Madre 192.Hi Tng. Recuerdo. 193. Vin M Ci. Hospicio. 195. Sao Chi. Cometa. 196. Sao V N. Venus. 197. Di Thp. Abajo. 198. Ni Bun Su m. Lagran Tristeza. 199. T Khc Nc ng. Remanso. 200.Bin Ha. Variacn. 201.Vng ng. Remansos Remansillo. Little Backwater. 204. Ca Khc. Cancin. 206. Tip Tc. Sigue. 207.Bn Nguyt. Media Luna. Bi ri... 208.T Khc Mu vng. Cuatro Baladas Amarillas Four Ballads In Yellow. 218. T Khc Tr V. El Refreso. 218. Tr V. El Regreso. The return. 220. Xui Dng. Corriente. 221. Hy Quay V. Hacia. 8

223. Gng Cm. Recodo. 225. Cho Tm Bit. Despedida. 226. ui Theo May Mn. Rfaga. Bi ri... 228. C c. Solitario. 230. Ba Bi Th Ng Hong Hn. De Tres Crepsculos. From Three Crepuscular Poems. 233. Bi Th Tnh Ngn. Madigales. Madrigals. 236. Tr Chi Ca Trng. Juego de Lunas. A Game of Moons. 238. Gp Nhau. Encuentro. Encounter. 240. Trong Vn Trng Tri Bi. En El Jardn de Las Toronjas de Luna. 240. Dn Nhp. Prlogo. 246. Cng. Prtico. 248. Phi Cnh. Perspectiva. 252. Khu Vn. El jardn. 258. Dn Giy Leo. Glorieta. 260. i L. Avenida. 263. Ca Khc Ngi Lm Vn Lnh Nht. Cancin del Jardinero Immvil. Song of The Motionless Gardener. 267. Cu Ni. Los Puentes Colgantes. Floating Bridge 270. Thn D Trng. El Stiro Banco. 272. Ghi Li Trong Khu Vn. Estampas del Jardin. Engravings of The Garden. 274. Cu Vng Trng. Arco de Lunas. 278. Ca Khc Cho Tr Cha Sinh. Cancioncilla del Nino Que No Naci. Little Song of The Unborn Child. 281. Mi Tinh Khi. Olor Blanco. 284. CnCt. Duna. 286. Bnh Minh v Ting Chung. Amanecer Y Repique. Wake Up / Ring Out. 288. Ca Khc Th. CANCIONES. 289. Bi Ca Hc Tr. La Cancin del Colegial. Schoolboy's Song. 291. Tr Ngch. Frisco. 292. Th Sn. Cazador. Hunter.

293. Nhng Bi Ht Thiu Nhi. De Canciones Para Nino. 293. Ca Khc Trung Quc u Chu. Cancin China En Europa. Song of China In Europe. 297. Tiu Khc V iu Sevillian. Cancioncilla Sevillana. 299. V c. Caracola. 303. Phong Cnh. Paisaje. 304. Bi Ca Ng Ngn. Cancin Tota. Silly Song. 306. Ba Chn Dung Bng Ti. Tres retratos con sombra. 306. Verlaine. Verlain. Verlain. 308. Bacchus. Baco. Bacchus. 310. Juan Ramn Jimnez. Juan Ramn Jimnez. 312. Thn V N. Venus. 314. Debussy. Debussy. 316. Tr Chi. Juegos. 316. Ca Khc Cho cy sy. rbol de Cacin. 318. Cam v Chanh. Naranja Y Limn. 320.Con ng Ngi cm. La Calle de Los Mudos. 322. Ca Khc Trng. Caciones de Luna. 322. Trng Ln. La Luna Asoma. 324. Hai Trng Mt Bui Chiu. Dos Lunas de Tarde. Two Evening Moons. 328. K Nim Nm Th Hai. Segundo Aniversario. 330. Hoa. Flor. 331. Sau Lng Trn Th. Trasmundo. 331. m Bn Khon. Malestar Y Noche. 333. Ngy Ci. Desposorio. 335. Gi T. Despedida. 336. T Vn. Suicidio. 338. Ca Khc: Tnh Yu. Amor. 338. Tiu Khc c M ln u. Cancioncilla del Primer Deseo. 340. Do Khc. Preludio. 342. Tiu Tnh Khc. Soneto.

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344. Ca Khc Chm Dt. Canciones Para Terminar. Ca Khc Chm Dt 344. Mt Cch Khc. De Otro Modo. 346. Ca Khc T Thn Cam Cn Ci. Cancin del Naranjo Seco. Song Of The Dead Orange Tree. 349. Su Bi Th Ca Ngi Ga Li Ci. SEIS POEMAS GALEGOS. 350. Tiu Khc Cho Thnh Ph Santiago. Madrigal Cibd de Santiago. Madrigal for the City of Santiago. 354. Khc Nhc m Cho Thiu Nin Cht ui. Noiturnio Do Adoescente Morto. Nocturne of the Drowned Youth. 357. Trng Santiago Nhy Ma. Danza da La En Santiago. Dance of the Santiago Moon. 364. Th Ri. POEMAS SUELTOS. 365. T Nhn. Cautiva. The Prisoner. 368. Bi Th Ngn V Tn. Pequeno Poema Infinito. Little Infinite Poem. 375. ng H Ngng Chy. Claro De Reloj. Pause of The Clock. 377.Thn Ln ang Khc. El Lagarto Esta Llorando. The Lizard Is Crying 379. Anh Cht Lc Hng ng. Murio Al Amanacer. He Died At Dawn. 382. Cy, Cy...Arbole, Arbole...Tree, Tree... 387. Thng B cm. El Nino Mudo. The Little Mute Boy. 389. Lng Kht Khao Ca Bc Tng. Ansia De Estatua. Desire Of A Statue. 391. Ngi V Phn Bi. La Casada Infie. The Unfaithful Wife 400. Ca Khc Cho Ngi Dn Du Mc B Hnh H. Cancin del Gitano Apaleado. Song of The Beaten Gypsy. 403. Ca Khc Cho M Ca Amargo. Cancin de La Madre del Amargo. Song of Amargo's Mother. 406. Chuyn ng Trung T V Binh Quc Gia. Escena del Teniente Coronel de La Guardia Civil. Scen of The Lieutenant Colonel of The Civil Guard. 408. Chuyn Hai Nm M v Con Ch Assyri. Paisaje Con Dos Tumbas Y Un Perro Asirio. Landscape With Two Tombs And An Assyrian Dog. 411. St Nhn, Asesinato. Murder 413. Tnh Ca Du Mc (Gypsy). PRIMER ROMANCERO GITANO. 414. Ballad Mng Du. Romance Sonmbulo. Sleepwalking Ballad. 425. Ballad Ni Mun Phin U Un. Romance de La Pena Negra. Ballad of The Black Sorrow. 11

432. Ballad V Binh Ty Ban Nha. Romance de La Guardia Civil Espanola. Ballad of The Spanish Civil Guard. 451. Tranh v ca Federico Garcia Lorca. Phn 2. 471. Ty Lun: Federico Garcia Lorca: C Cu v Tc Phm 488. Gii Thiu Trng Thi Llanto Por Ignacio Snchez Mejas. 496. IU CA CHO IGNACIO SANCHEZ MEJIAS. 496. on 1. u B v Ci Cht. La cogida Y La Muerte.The Goring And The Death 498. on 2. Chy Mu. La Sangre Derramada. The Spilled Blood. 501. on 3. Xc Thn Cn . Cuerpo Presente. Presence of Body. 503. on 4. Vng Bng Linh Hn. Alma Ausente.The Soul Absent. 505. Bn Ghi Ch. 540. Thi S Trong Thnh Ph New York. EN NUEVA YORK. 541. Dn nhp tc phm. 547. Quay V Sau Khi Tn B. Vuelta de Paseo. Back From A Walk. 550. Bnh Minh. La Aurora.The Dawn 553. Vua Harlem. Oda Al Rey de Harlem. The King of Harlem. 577. Cnh Qun Chng Nn Ma. Paisaje de La Multitud Que Vomita. Landscape of A Vomiting Multitude 583. Thnh Ph Khng Ng. Ciudad Sin Sueno. City That Does Not Sleep. 591. Con B. Vaca. Cow. 595. Ci Cht. Muerte. Death. 598. New York. Nueva York. New York. 608. Trng K Tamarit. DIVN DEL TAMARIT. 609. Minh ha 613. Dn nhp tc phm. 614. Gacela: Tnh Yu Bt Ng. Gacela del Amor Imprevisto.Gacela of Unforseen Love 618. Gacela: S Hin Din Kinh S. Gacela de La Terrible Presencia. Gacela of The Terrible Presence. 623. Gacela: Tnh Yu Tuyt Vng. Gacela del Amor Desesperado.Gacela of Desperate Love. 12

626. Gacela: Tinh Yu Khng Cn Bit. Garcela del Amor Que No Se Deja Ver.Gacela: Love That Hides From View 629. Gacela: a Tr Qua i. Gacela del Nino Muerto. Gacela: The Dead Child. 633. Gacela: Ci Ngun Cay ng. Gacela de La Raiz Amarga. Gacela:The Bitter Root. 637. Gacela: Ci Cht Ti Tm. Gacela de La Muerte Oscura.Gacela: Dark Death. 642. Gacela: Tnh Yu Tuyt Diu. Gacela del amor maravilloso. Gacela: Marvellous Love. 645.Gacela: Tnh Yu Hi Tng. Garcela del recuerdo del amor.Gacela: The Memory of Love. 648. Gacela: Li Thot. Gacela de La Huida.Gacela: The Escape. 652. Gacela: Tnh Yu Trm Nm. Gacela del Amor de Cien Anos.Gacela: Hundred Years of Love. 654. Gacela: Ch Bui Sng. Gacela del Mercado Matutino.Gacela: The Morning Market. 658. Casida: a B B Thng V Nc. Casida del Herido Por El Agua.Casida of The Boy Wounded By The Water. 662. Casida: Ting Khc. Casida del Llanto.Casida of The Weeping 665. Casida: Cnh Cy. Casida de Los Ramos.Casidaof The Branches. 670. Casida: Ngi n B Nm. Casida de La Mujer Tendida.Casida of the Reclining Woman. 674. Casida: Bn Tay o Tng. Casida de La Mano Impossible. Casida: The Imposible Hand. 678. Casida: Hoa Hng. Csida de La Rosa.Casida: The Rose. 681. Casida: Thiu N Ha Vng. Casida de La Muchacha Aorada.Casida of The Golden Girl. 686. Casida: B Cu en. Casida de Las Palomas Oscuras.Casida of The Dark Doves. 690. Tiu Khc Tnh Yu U Ut. SONETOS DEL AMOR OSCURA 691. Dn nhp. 692. Sonnet: Vng Hoa Hng. Soneto de La Guirnalda de Rosas.Sonnet of The Wreathe of Rose. 696. Sonnet: Li Phin Trch D Thng. Soneto de La Dulce Queja. Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint. 699. Thng Tch Tnh. Llagas de Amor.Wounds of Love. 705. Thi S Hi Tnh Yu Hi m. El Poeta Pide A Su Amor Que Le Escriba.The Poet Ask His Love To Write. 709. Tnh Yu Ng Trong Tim Thi S. El Amor Dierme En El Pecho del Poeta. Love Sleeps in The Poet's Heart. 712. m Tnh Yu Mt Ng. Noche de Amor Insomme.Night of Insomniac Love. 715. Tm Lc Tiu S Federico Garcia Lorca. 720. Ph bn

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Federico Garcia Lorca

c Th
c th thng thng ch yu l hng th li hay, p, tm tnh ca bi th v tm ca tc gi. V c th l mt cch hp th ci p ci hay ca thi s t nhin lm cho i sng ring p hn, hay hn. Nhng hp tinh th th ch yu l nm bt ng lc ca tc gi v c cu ca bi th. Ng lc l hai kh nng ca thi s. Mt l kh nng s dng ngn ng din t sng to. Hai l kh nng s dng ngn ng thm thu thng ngon. Mi thi s thnh danh u c mt ng lc c th. Th ca h c din t bng mt loi ngn ng ring cho d h vit bng ngn ng chung. C cu ca bi th l ngh thut ch tht v c tnh ca mi thi s. C cu
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khng ch c ngha l cu trc hoc phng php xy dng bi th. ngha bao trm hn l k thut xy dng th, nhng tng quan trong v ngoi ca bi th cng vi kh nng sng to trong lc sng tc. Ng lc v c cu l tt c nhng g th hin trn v qua vn bn. Gia tc gi v ngi c ch c vn bn. Gia sng tc v thng ngon ch c bi th. Cng nm bt ng lc v c cu c bao nhiu, s cng gn gi v chia x vi thi s c by nhiu. D nhin khng th loi b c i sng v nhng tnh tit v tc gi cng nh nhng ph bnh nhn xt ca cc chuyn gia v vn hc khi tm hiu mt thi s v th ca ng. Ng lc trong th ca Federico Garcia Lorca chia lm ba nhnh: Ng thut truyn thng trong ngn ng v m iu Ty Ban Nha m ng k tha qua cc th th v th ht ca dn tc. Ng thut ca tng trng v ng thut ca siu thc. S ha hp gia ba nhnh ng thut to cho ng mt ng lc ring bit v xc nh c kh nng thnh t ca thi s. C cu trong th ca Federico Garcia Lorca c nhiu k thut c bit v kh nng sng to trong lc lm th ca ng rt bin ha. Mt trong k thut cn quan tm l ly cm t, nhi cu v lp li cu th hoc on th nh ip khc. Kh nng sng to trong lc sng tc ca ng c th tm tm lc: Hnh nh v t th y nhng lin h phi l nhng thng qua nhng nh l thin nhin v kinh nghim nhn sinh th nhng phi l li tr thnh hu l vi nhng khai ph trong tm l v tm linh. Nhng bi th v sau ca ng cng nng n nhng bt kh bin gii v kh hiu hn v sc mu ca t tng cng lc cng m u. Bi vit nhn nh v th ca ng chia lm hai bi. Bi mt i vi phn mt ca tp th. Xin nhc li, nhng bi th trong phn ny c chuyn theo nhp iu cho va tinh thn th ca khc v th t khc ca Lorca. Qua phn hai, th ca ng c bin chuyn ln, nht l tp th, Poeta En Nueva York, Thi S Trong Thnh Ph New York, gm nhng bi th lng lng lp lp ch. Bi nhn nh th hai ch trng v s bin i ny v s chuyn th cng bin i theo th t do. Tp th cui i ca ng Divn Del Tamarit, vi nhng bi Gacela v Casida tht hi ha gia truyn thng dn tc v pht trin hin i. Tp chuyn th ny chia lm hai phn ngoi v bc ngoc thay i trong th Lorca, cn v k thut, tp chuyn th ny dy trn di 700 trang vi hnh nh v ghi ch s qu nng n a ln ton b v lu gi trn mng li. Xin mi.

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1.

Federico Garcia Lorca: Ng Lc v Tc Phm.

Siu thc l mt phong tro thi ca ln ca nhn loi. Chng nhng o to nhng thi s ti danh, nhng bi th bt h m tinh thn ca Siu Thc, ngh thut ca Siu Thc, k thut sng tc ca Siu Thc nh hng hu ht cc dng thi ca ca cc dn tc trn a cu. Quan trng nht l yu tnh ca Siu Thc tr thnh cn bn ca trong ngh thut sng to, xut hin t nhin trong cc tc phm, cc bi th ca hu ht cc thi s tn tui trong th k 20 bc sang th k 21. 1. S HI HA TRONG TH LORCA. Federico Garcia Lorca khng phi l thi s chnh danh trong tc Siu Thc nhng ng ln ln trong thi im ny. Bt u t nm 1920. phi Siu Thc ra i nh mt cn lc, cch mng ngh thut u Chu, nht l ngh thut vn chng, hi ha v to hnh. Lorca li giao thip vi cc ngh s Siu Thc nh ho s Salvador Dal, to hnh Emilio Soriano Aladrn....th Siu Thc tm n ng nh mt cn sng thi i tp vo b thi ca. ng bt u lm th c l t lu, t lc tr, mc d lc tr, ng yu thch m nhc hn thi ca. im mc thi gian m nhiu nh nghin cu th Federico Garcia Lorca ng , l nm 1918, nm ng chnh thc bc vo ci th. Nhng a s th c in li trong thi im , thng ghi nm 1920. Th ca ng c th nhn xuyn qua ba giai on sng tc: 1- Thi khi u, k tha truyn thng th ca Ty Ban Nha. 2- nh hng bi phi Tng Trng. (1) 3- nh hng bi phi Siu Thc. (2) Tuy phn chia thnh ba giai on nhng vo khong nm 1930-31 tr i, th ng chng t s ha nhp tinh thn v ngh thut ca c ba nh hng k trn. Ngoi ra, nh nhng thi s u Chu ng thi, ng cng b nh hng bi tinh thn v th th ngn ca th Hi C, th Nht v th Trung Hoa. Vi ti nng thin ph ng hi ha c nhng u im, c tnh ca cc

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phong tro thi ca v c tnh ca dn tc. ng tr thnh mt trong nhng thi s quan trng ca th k 20 v l mt trong vi thi s hng u Ty Ban Nha. i vi ngi c bnh thng, c l th ca ng kh kh hiu. V sao kh hiu? - a s ngi c bnh thng tm n th nh mt gii tr, hng th mt cch d di. c xong l mun hiu lin. Khng cn phi ng no. Nht l, nhng ngi c ch tm cm xc. Mun nghe lng mnh rung ng. Tnh cm xn xao hoc cm kch. Tm li k nim xa. Tm tm s ng iu. H thng a ra kt lun, c th thy hay , thy thch l c ri. Nh vy, khng c g sai tri. ng na l khc. Nhng thiu, thiu nhiu. - a s ngi Vit c th, thch th vn iu hoc nu khng vn th phi m , chi chut. Th Vit a s mang tinh thn ny v t i Hn hc, b nh hng th ng, th Hn. Qua thi Th Mi b nh hng bi th Lng mn, Tng Trng v Biu Tng ca Php. Ch yu nhng loi th ny trng s chi chut ngn t v m cm ha t th v li th. a s lm th vi nhiu tnh t, b tc t v lin t. a s th Vit ng vo phong cch chi chut cho lng ly v qu phi nh th ng v y m than trch nh dng th Lng Mn Php. Do cn nhiu tnh t. Nhim v ca tnh t trong th Vit lm cho th "bay bm", d gy cm xc. Tnh t, b tc t, lin t lm cho cu th mt m, m , trn tru. Ngay c th th Lc Bt truyn thng ca ngi Vit, mang bn cht "hin ha". Vi nhng m thanh bng trc v yu vn cc vn ng khun bi th, cu th vo nhc iu m m, trn tra. Cho d din t v chin tranh, cho d l ngi bt ca thi ho Nguyn Du trong truyn Kiu, cng ch thy p m khng thy mu la. Khi tip cn nhng loi th khng vn, khng iu hin din trong ngn ng, ngi c cm gic "khng phi th". Khi c nhng bi th "kh", thiu vng tnh t, ngi c cm thy "kh cm". Nhng bi th c ng, xc tch, v d nh th Hi C, lp tc tr thnh kh hiu. - c th, a s ngi Vit ch trng tnh tit, cu chuyn nht l tm s ca tc gi. Nu gp nhng bi th gi ghm suy t hoc nhng cm nghim nhn sinh, ngi c bnh thng cho rng th gii m. - a s th ca Federico Garcia Lorca trong phn mt, c chuyn thnh th Lc Bt, bn ch, nm ch, by ch, tm ch ... nhng th th quen thuc d cm thng. Tuy vy th ng vn kh. Kh ch: - ng s dng nhiu phong tc, tp qun, c tch dn tc v huyn thoi Hy Lp, La M trong th.
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- ng p dng tinh thn v k thut ca phong tro Tng Trng. Tinh thn v k thut th Tng Trng ch yu trnh by i tng vi ngha trong tm tnh v bi cnh. i tng t hin thc, thc t, c th tr thnh tru tng. Tng trng i tng bng mt s vt hoc mt tng, c khi l mt mu chuyn. Nhng lin h siu hnh, trit l hoc tng tng khin cho th khng bc bch nh th t cnh, t tnh, k l hoc bch vn. Do , sc mnh ca lin tng, kin thc v kinh nghim sng, kh cn thit cho ngi c. - Cng v sau, ng cng s dng ngh thut sng tc ca phi Siu Thc. Ch yu l nhng hnh tng, t th mang bn cht v lin h phi l, c gc r t nhng gic m, t su thm ca v thc. Vi nhng l lun bnh thng, nhng hnh nh hng ngy, thc t, ngi c d b lc sng khi bt vo nhng hnh, nhng t mng lung v khng tun theo lun l. Trc gic ca ngi c phi cm nhn bng cch khm ph nhng iu thi s kinh qua, dn vt, suy gm. Nhng iu ny, thng khi khng nm trong ngha ca ch m nm xuyn qua ch. - Qua n tinh thn th Hi C l gi ra. Mt bi th khng c kt lun. Cu th dt nhng th vn cn. Bi th chm dt trong mi ngi c khc nhau. Th c bi Hi C ca thi s Skan: Nu gn cn vo mt trng ci qut mo (Trng Ma Gt). Phi cht "thy" trng ma gt thng rt trn, ging nh ci qut mo sng, ch thiu ci cn. Nhng bi th khng ngng y. S khi hi gn cn vo trng biu l nim vui ngy ma. Ngi ln n mng, tr em ca ht. Vng trng gn ci cn tr thnh ci qut, tr chi ca tr con. Thng Bm c ci qut mo. Phi chng mi ngi trong chng ta khi ang vui di trng rm, u c mt a tr nhy ma trong lng? Trong tinh thn gi v m, Lorca vit: Trng ln trm mt trn ging nhau ng tin km trong ti than khc Cuando sale la luna de cien rostros iguales, la moneda de plata solloza en el bolsillo.
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( La luna asoma ) Trng ca Lorca hin i hn , ty phng hn, trn nh ng tin km. ng tin nm trong ti than khc cho thn phn b mua i bn li. Cn trng nm trong ti t tri, c khc cho thn phn g chng? Trong bi Flor, ng vit a hoa: ( Flor.) Dng liu r l su di cn ma, trng l Ka, trng trn trn cnh sng! El magnifico sauce de la lluvia, caa. Oh, la luna redonda sobre las ramas blancas!

Hoa l trng hay trng l hoa? C cn thit c mt lun l r rng khng? Hay c ngu nhin ghi xung hnh tng pht gic t tm tng. Thi s Basho (Ba Tiu) cng vy: Cnh ng bng gn vng trng rt hoa. Hoa gn trng hay nh trng sng? Nhng cu th sng tc theo tinh thn Hi C nh lng l, khng c lin t, khng c nhng ni kt bnh thng. i khi c nhng bi th Hi C ca cc thi s thi danh truyn li, cm thy trng vng, "v duyn". V nh bi th ca Ryta:

Bc mnh, quay v nh thy trong vn hoa cy Dng Liu.

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Nhng c i c li, t hi, c iu chi m lu danh hu th? Dn d mi cm c s an bnh ca cy Dng r l. Tng phn vi ni bc mnh l ni yn lnh ngay trong vn nh. Bnh an t u n? Ngay trong lng thi. u c bc bi, c tm lnh. Th Hi C vit t ch nn khng ch di dng, trnh by v gii thch. Ch ch gi . Phn cn li ty vo ngi c khm ph v m rng. Ni dung ca Hi C thng l s tng quan gia cnh thin nhin v cnh tng ni tm. S so snh, nghch o, lin hon hoc b xung nhng thc t ang nhn thy vi tru tng trong tm tr, ri m ra mt th gii cm nhn v t duy khng kt lun. Tinh thn Hi C nh hng th Lorca: Chung vng nh cha Rng boo...boong...boo..boong... vang ra ng la Small golden bells Dragon pagoda tinkle tinkle over the ricefields. ( Bn dch: Jerome Rothenberg, Shinto.)

Dc theo dng th ca Lorca, ngi c d nhn ra s nh hng ca thin nhin trong th ca ng. ng sinh ra v ln ln trong min qu. C mt thi nin thiu, ng chy nhy tung tng vi rung ng, tru b, gia sc. ng ln ln vi phong tc tp qun dn qu. Th ng cha y nhng phong cnh thin nhin v sinh hot nng thn cho d a s ch tng trng cho nhng g n nu bn trong. i lc, nu khng bit nhng phong thi ny, kh m theo di th ca ng. Cng v sau, ng cng uyn bc s dng nhng s tch, huyn thoi v nhng c tnh ca m nhc dn tc, nht l nhc flamenco. Th ca ng c c chiu rng ln chiu su.

Mt Tri ln
Mt tri ln. Thy hng cy dng nh tng ng m ngy suy t. Bnh xe quay nc l ng gt ht la dng nh tht bun!

The Sun Has Set

The sun has set and trees, like statues, meditate. The wheat has all been cut. What sadness in the quiet waterwheels!

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Ch qu sa gia m trng chm chm mun cn bt thng sao Kim. T cao sao sng s chm ln nh tri to rng tm t quen. Mui bay tch mch trong m nh ngun th hng ni nim git sng. nh n sng rc mt phng ph Ph-n-lp dm trng xa xa. "B i, hy ng ngon nha si lang sp n," ku la ting cu. "Bn i, tri c vo thu?" Bng hoa heo ho hi ph du thi. By gi, mc t ln i vo hang n np trnh thi kip tai. By gi, ca ng then ci, bn trong con tr an bi vui chi, nh nh ca ht thnh thi bn ngoi nghe vng bao li yu thng bi ca quen thuc bnh thng. (3)

A country dog hungers for Venus and barks at her. She shines above her pre-kiss field like a great apple.

Mosquitoes-Pegasuses of the dew wheel in the still air. Light, that vast Penelope weaves a brilliant night. "Sleep, my daughter, for the wolf is coming bleat the little dheep. "Is it autumn yet, my friends?" ask a crumpled flower. Now shepherds will come with their nests across the mountains, far away! Now little girls will play in the old inn's door. and the houses will hear love songs they've long known by heart. (Bn dch: Catherine Brown)

Trong phong cnh thn qu v m, cch xa ph th Ph-n-lp, con ch qu sa mun cn sao Kim (sao V N) l mt tng trng cho c m ca thi s. Ni khao kht ca con ngi trn th mun lm nn mt s vic cao xa nhng cng mt lc cm bng lng tht vng nh con ch nhy chm chm ch sa m thi. Mt tng trng khc din t ni ch si xut hin v cc b con trn vui trong cn nh. Cm ra nh cu chuyn c tch ng ngn: Ba Con Heo v Ch Si.

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Hn th na, l l do con ngi thnh lp gia nh v lin kt yu thng chng li nhng him ha ca i sng. Qu hng ca Lorca l ni pht tit nhc flamenco, Khng th thiu m iu trong hn ca ng. Vit v cy n thng Ghi-ta, ng din t khng nhng ch t m cn theo nhp iu flamenco, lc nhanh lc chm, lc dn lc li. on cui ca bi th La Guitarra, ng vit: Oh guitarra! Corazn malherido por cinco espadas i, ghi-ta, n i! Tri tim thng tch sut i bi nm li gm.

Por cinco espadas, chuyn l bi nm li gm, ph hp vi bn dch ca Cola Franzen: by five swords. Nhng khng c ngha g cho bi th v n ghi ta vi nm li gm. Khi tra cu mi hiu, nm li gm ch l mt li ni ch mt cch chi n ghi ta theo nhc iu flamenco. Nhc s dng c nm ngn tay bay nhy trn su dy n nh nm li gm xuyn thu vo tim ngi nghe. V vy on cui l: i, ghi-ta, n i! Tri tim thng tch sut i bi nm ngn tay. Chuyn th: (Chim u tin cht trn cy). i, n i, hi n ny! bit chng Tri tim thng tch vnh hng bi tay nm ngn iu n flamenco. L mt ngi yu m nhc v nhc dn tc, ng mang nhng th ht v tinh thn ca khc vo trong th. V d nh ngi Vit lm th theo th th ht o, chc s lm cho ngi ngoi quc kh nm bt bi th. Lorca lm rt nhiu bi th, ngn c di c, trong cc th iu nhc dn tc.

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Trc Bui Bnh Minh

Nh tnh yu nhng cung th m. Trong m thanh xun nhng mi tn du try khiu gi trn a hoa Ly-ly. Trng li lim x ln my tm v bao ng tn m t sng mai. i, nh tnh yu nhng cung th m (4)

Before Dawn
But like love the archers are blind. Above the green night arrows leave traces of ardent lily.

The keel of the moon rips purple clouds and the quivers fill with dew. Oh, but like love the archers are blind! (Bn dch: Cola Franzen)

Cp G
Lc cc cc. Lc cc cc. Lc cc cc. Cp g hnh con b ku gin tan. Trong bn tay nh con nhn
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Castanet
Castanet Castanet Castanet Sonorous scarab In the spider of the hand

khuy ng khng kh m ln ri chm xung m thanh g rung vang. Lc cc cc. Lc cc cc. Lc cc cc. Cp g hnh con b ku gin tan. (5)

you crimp the warm air, and drown in your wooden drill. Castanet Castanet Castanet Sonorous scarab.

Th ca ng cng kh hiu hn khi ng a vo nhng "in c" thn thoi Hy lp. La M ri chuyn cc hnh tng, truyn thuyt ny vo tng trng hay siu thc. Th xa ca ngi Vit cng nh th ng , th Hn, y c nhng in c v in tch. Nu khng c mt kin thc vng vng, kh m chia x c nhng bi th cao k ny.

Thn D Trng
Trn a hoa Thy Tin bt t Thn D trng ng say. Sng ln bng pha l lm vng trn trinh bch Mt tri, con rng la thun thc lim i tay ph n ca thn D. Trn dng sng tnh i n thn nc cht tri. Tim thn D theo gi kh t ging bo xa. Vi nc trn t l ngun sui
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chia by dng xanh nh thy tinh. (6) Nhn nh v tinh thn tng trng v siu thc trong th Federico Garcia Lorca, c th thy ngay, ng bt u vi tng trng ri chuyn sang siu thc nhng vn gi nhng c tnh ca th tng trng nn th ng l mt bn hp tu gia tng trng v siu thc cng vi th dn tc Ty Ban Nha. Nhn t bn ngoi l nh vy, nu i su vo trong c cu ca th ng, s nghim ra sc sng to ca ng xa nhng bin gii ca k thut ca phong tro, trng phi th. T to cho mnh mt cch din t ring. Mt trong nhng u im hng u l nhng s phc tp trong c cu c trnh by rt t nhin. Tng Trng: Sng gn gi vi nhng bin chuyn ca thin nhin, vi cy c, sc vt tn vong trn ng rung, vi kh nng nhn xt tinh t, suy t bn nhy, Lorca thu dng c mt th "lun l thin tin" ca t tri, va u ym ban pht va phn n trng pht. Mt cy mc bn ng, tm thng, nhng ci sinh mng tn ti kia c phi l v tri? Nguyn y t u n? lin h g vi con ngi? T mt vt thc t, a vo bi cnh ca ni tm, tng tng ra nhng chi tit din t mt suy t, mt kha cnh ca kinh nghim. Nm 1919, ng vit: rboles! Habis sido flechas cadas del azul? Qu terriblesguerreros os lanzaron? Han sido las estrellas? Vuestras msicas vienen del alma de los pjaros, de los ojos de Dios, de la pasin perfecta. rboles! Conocern vuestras races tocas mi corazn en tierra? Cy i!
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Cy i! C phi xa l mi tn t tri rt xung? chin chinh k no, kinh hong nh ngi

ng nho? Phi chng l nhng v sao im lm?

Ngi bng nhc t hn chim t mt Thng t nim am m Cy i! r mc xum xu bit chng li t no v tim ta? Trees!

C phi ngi l mi tn rt xung t tri? Chin s no hung d x ngi ri? Phi chng l tinh t? Nhc trong ngi n t hn chim n t mt Thng n t nng nhit am m. Cy i! Gc r hung hng ngi c bit tim ta ang vi trong t su?

Were you once arrows fallen from blue? What terrible warriors cast you down? The stars? Your music springs from the soul of birds, from the eyes of God, from perfect passion. Trees! Will your tough roots know my heart in the soil? (Bn dch: Catherine Brown. Trees).

i vi ngi dn qu, i sng gn lin vi thi tit, tnh cm vui bun theo ma mng. Chp nhn nhng thin tai nh nhng hnh pht v nhng ti trng do h t hoang tng. Ngi ca nhng n phc ca Thng khi c ma , khi gia sc bnh an, cng do tng tng m ra. Tng tng do u m c? Do lng s hi. Tng tng l mt loi phng tin ca con ngi yu ui chng i nhng bt hnh. Lorca ht th khng kh ny, cm nhn ny, hng ngy vng qu. Ln ln vi phong tc, l lng. Ghi m bi tc ng, ca dao. V ng mang ci "lun l thin tin" vo tm trng phn khng. Mt th phn khng lng mn ca chn yu tay mm. Mt th nhy cm: "bt bnh cho thn phn" ca tm s bit khng lm c g m vn bc xc. Federico Garcia Lorca bt u dng th ca ng nh vy. Tng trng, phi chng l kt qu ca tng tng v lin tng? Trc ht phi bt u t mt quan nim v nhng gi tr ca nhn sinh quan. Ci tng trng c "th thn" cho i tng trong mt gi tr tru tng no . Gia tng trng v i tng l s tng quan hai chiu nhng khng nht thit phi gii thch cho nhau. Tng trng khng ch yu lm cho i tng r rng hn nhng lm cho i tng d cm nhn hn trong mt ngha, cm ngha kh gii thch hoc khng mun gii thch. Mc tiu ca tng trng l ngi c gii thch, t cm thch ly theo c tinh , kin thc v kinh nghim ring t. Khng nht thit phi c cng mt ngha. S khng bao gi
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Your lance

ngn gio m trng chn tri. V dy ni nh tm khin che ch. ng chim bao thy mt trng chy mu hy ng yn. Nhng con ng, hy bc chn ving thm u ym vi git sng. ............................................... ........................................ i quanh khp th gii khng tm ra c tr ni no khng phi ngha a, khng phi lim tang cng khng phi yu thng y tri phc sinh tn ti. (7) ................................

will never wound the horizone. The mountain is a shield that guards it. Do not dream of the blood of the moon, just rest. But, oh road, let the soles of my feet be caressed by the dew... .................. .................. In all your travels round the world, you find no shelter, no cementery, no shround, nor will the air of love renew your being. (Bn dch: Catherine Brown. The Road.)

Siu Thc: Ci lun l thin tin gy bt bnh thn phn l si xch mc ni th ca Lorca thnh mt chui di vi nhng bi th cng v sau cng xc tch, cng vy vng, cng cm thng. Hnh nh nhng thi s ln u l nhng ngi cm nhn su sc v s tht bi ca chnh bn thn, cho d bn ngoi nhn vo, ngi ta thy h thnh cng. S tht bi ca thi s khng phi l i sng, khng phi l tnh yu, khng phi l cng danh m l s tht bi ca mt ngi khao kht tm ra

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nhng g m bn cht rt m h. Mc tiu ca h di ng, chp chn, lc gn lc xa. Tng c th nm bt ri li trn tut. Cm gic v tng khng tm c, dy v h v xc ng t tm s ny thc y thnh th. Nhng t th qua siu thc a phn l phi l trong khun kh suy t bnh thng. Nhng phi l tm thy trong gic m: t on, v ngha, bin ha, khng tun theo mt qui tc thc tnh no. Ni mt cch khc, Siu Thc din t nhng hnh nh, cm nhn hoc linh cm t v thc v gic m. Phn khng li nhng ci nhn thc t v suy lun hu l. Siu Thc i su vo tm l ca sng tc ln thng ngon, kch thch s xt li ca l tr. nh du nhng nghi ng v gi tr hoc nim tin ng thi. V vy, ch c nhng s kin phi l s lm cho con ngi dng li, git mnh, thot ra nhng thi quen thng trc v nhng bng ng ca i sng. Ti sao con ngi thng thch s quen thuc? V h thy c l. Ti sao con ngi thch c l? V h cm thy an ton. Ti sao cn an ton? V bn cht ca ngi l s hi. l v sao con ngi t thch iu mi l. Bi vy khi bt gp iu phi l, cm gic s bt bnh thng, t duy s bt u suy lun, khm ph tm li s c l. Mi cho n gia th k 19 sang th k 20, con ngi mi chp nhn c v thc. Vi thuyt tm l ca Sigmund Freud (1856-1939), con ngi mi thc c c nhng iu khng cn phi c l. T n hin hu l . ng ra, mt nguyn l cn bn cn phi chp nhn, khng cn phi l gii, l: Hin hu l . Cho d l mt o gic, mt quan nim, mt phi l...v...v..nu n hin ra v c mt l chp nhn. Nhng phi l tr thnh nhng cm nhn khng cn l gii khi nm r ngun ci ca v thc v ng nng tm l. Trn kha cnh trit l, nu suy t su rt ro, c th l g trn ci sng m hu l? Tht l c gng! Con nga c gng ht sc ha thnh con ch! Con ch c gng ht sc ha thnh chim nhn! Chim nhn c gng ht sc ha thnh con ong! Con ong c gng ht sc ha thnh con nga!
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Ri con nga, i, mi tn bn nhn gic gi t hoa hng, i, hoa hng u su n t cnh ! Ri hoa hng, i, mt chm nh sng v ting khc mc dnh vo nha sng t thn cy! (3a) Ri nha sng, i, nhng dao nhn m trong thc tnh! Ri dao nhn, i, v gia c, trng tr tri, dao i tm trng mun thu nh hng! Cn ti, trn mi nh mp m i, thin s chy tn bit tm u! Nhng vm cao, rng ln qu, v hnh qu, khonh khc qu, khng cht no c gng ha thn! (8) Khi nhng t v cnh tng phi l li c kh nng lm cho ngi cm nhn st hn gi tr v ngha ca i sng, th siu thc l phng tin a tm hn tip cn tru tng v siu hnh. Khc vi bi ging v thn hc lun, trit hc lun, siu thc khng nhm vo kh nng tip nhn ca hiu bit, m nhm vo kh nng nhy cm v kh nng bc pht ca trc gic. V nh bi: Gacela del recuer del amor. ng mang k c theo em cho k c m m tim anh, run run o trng l xanh lnh v thng kh lng cnh thng Ging. Cch chia sng cht hai min ngn anh l vch mun phin chim bao. Hoa Chung dng tng su au
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Don't take your memory with you. Let it stay here in my heart, a shivering white cherry tree in the torment of January. I'm divided from the dead by a wall of bad dreams. I give the pain of fresh lillies

cho tim v cm thch cao v tnh. Sut m vn qu rp rnh m m i mt nh tnh ch canh. Sut m ngm c vo anh nh n qu Mc cng nh h hao. i khi gi thi, v sao Ut Kim Hng li l su hi kinh, Mt cnh Ut Kim Hng xinh n au bui sm rng mnh ma ng. Chim bao s hi tnh khng cch chia ci cht vch lng t sinh. C xanh lng l v tnh mc bun thung lng u minh m phn. Vm cao h hn mt ln gi cy cao mc che dn bng en ng mang k c theo em cho k c m m tim anh. (Gacela Mi Tnh Hi Tng) (9)

to a heart made of plaster. All night in the orchard my eyes are like two dogs. All night I am eating poisonous quinces. Sometimes the wind is a tulip of fear; a sickly tulip on a winter morning. A wall of bad dreams divides me from the dead. The grass quietly covers your body's grey valley. Round the arch where we met hemlock grows. But don't take your memory with you, let it stay here in my heart. (Bn dch: Paul Archer. Gacela: The Memory Of Love)

Federici Garcia Lorca to cho mnh mt ch ng ring trong thi ca th gii v kh nng hi ha nhng kin thc lnh hi v kh nng th nghim nhng kin thc ny tr thnh nhng

30

cm nghim ring t. Vi ti nng bm sinh ngh thut sng to, ng thnh ton mt ngh thut lm th rt c th. Ci tng th chung din t ny, gi l Ng Lc ca Lorca. 2. NG LC TRONG TH LORCA. Ng lc khng phi l kh nng c th nhng l kh nng c bit ca thi s. Mt ngi lm th cha t c trnh ng lc ca c tnh v t cht, th cha c th lm thi s. Ng lc gm c hai kh nng: Mt l kh nng din t ca sng tc. Hai l kh nng thng thng ngon. V ti nng nh gi hai kh nng ny chnh l sng to. Ni nm na, ng lc l sc mnh ca ngn ng m thi s dng trnh by nhng su kn trong tm t v truyn qua cm nhn ca ngi c. Trong ng lc c ng thut v din lc. Khi lm th, Lorca s dng ngn ng kh bnh thng, khng cu k cng khng trau chut qu m t php. Nhng din lc ca ng l ch ngha cu mang nhng suy t thm trm, nhng cm nhn nhy bn v ng thut ca ng mang c tnh ca th Ty Ban Nha v th Tng Trng cng nh th Siu Thc, trnh by mt phn bn trn. Vt ra ngoi nhng k thut nh danh , th Lorca thng thy nhng k thut thng dng nh i T. Hai hnh nh hoc hai cnh tng tng phn hoc lin kt hoc tip din din t " ti ngn ngoi", nhng khng nm trong ch. C khi l mt chui hnh nh hoc t cnh thao din nhng i tng tru tng. Gia n bm en thy nng da en bn dy sng m hnh con rn trng (10) Among black butterflies goes a dark girl beside a white serpent of mist. ( Bn dch: Cola Franzen, The Passage of the Siguiriya.) Tng Bch (Nc ng.) Bch Dng (Nc trong.)
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Ciprs (Agua estancada.) Chopo (Agua cristalina.)

Mimbre (Agua profunda.) Corazn (Agua de pupila.) ( Remanso) Cada cancin es un remanso del amor. Cada lucero es un remanso del tiempo. Un nudo del tiempo. Y cada suspiro un remanso del grito (Sigue)

Dng Liu (Nc su.) Tri tim (Bong bng nc.)

Mi bi ht l mi vng ng tnh yu. Mi ngi sao l mi vng ng thi gian. Mi thi gian tht nt. Mi hi th l mi vng ng ting tht la.

Mt k thut khc m ng thng s dng l Lp Li: lp li mt cm t, gi l Ly. Lp li cu, gi l Nhi. Nu lp li cu hoc on vi mc ch ni tip, bt cu, gi l m. Nhng lc m l lc mc ni hoc r li trong bi th di. Ni chung, s Lp Li dng nhn mnh, gy n tng, gy nh hng tm l v c th to ra nhng cm gic, v d nh kh chu v b lp li nhiu ln nhng sau cm gic kh chu l cm nhn thng. V d khc nh cm gic gh rn ln thng cm khi ng tip tc lp i lp li cu th: a las cinco de la tarde. (ng 5 gi chiu.). Cu th ny di ln s ngc nhin ri chuyn qua kh chu ri di li thng cm. Trong trng ca Llanto Por Ignacio Snchez Meja, iu Ca cho Ignacio Snchez Meja. Trong khc m u, La Cogida y la Muerte, u B v Ci Cht, sau mi cu th ng u lp li cu " ng 5 gi chiu". l gi bt u khm lim xc ca
32

Ignacio Snchez Mejas. Khc ny tng cng 52 cu. ng lp li cu " ng 5 gi chiu" tt c l 26 ln. Ignacio va l ngi u b ni ting trong lch s u trng Ty Ban Nha, va l mt ngh s, va l tnh nhn ca ng. S qua i bt ng v tai nn ngh nghip ca Ignacio su nng vt thng lng Lorca. Trng iu Ca ny tr thnh mt trong nhng trng ca hay nht ca Ty Ban Nha v ca vn chng th gii. (Xem bi iu Ca trong phn II.). K thut lp li l mt k thut c t thi xa xa. Lc , m ng ngi nghe thuc hng bnh dn, m ch nn h yu thch nghe k chuyn. V vy, xut hin mt tng lp ngi c th do. H i khp thn xm v k li nhng s thi, nhng thin anh hng ca, c truyn, c bi di c hng ngn cu. Ngi k phi lp li nhng on, nhng cu th quan trng hp dn ngi nghe v cng ngi nghe mi tin vic theo di. Lorca s dng k thut lp li ny v phi hp vi th ht dn gian. Nhng bi ht lun lun c ip khc, nhng ch ly v nhng cu nhi. ng s dng k thut lp li rt ti tnh, lm cho thng ngon ch v theo st bi th, nht l nhng bi th di. Ly: Cm t: " se desvanecen", "Slo queda el desierto". Los laberintos que crea el tiempo, se desvanecen. (Slo queda el desierto.) El corazn, fuente del deseo, se desvanece. (Slo queda el desierto.) La ilusin de la aurora y los besos, se desvanecen. Ph ch thi gian tiu tan. ( Ch sa mc tn ti ). Tri tim ngun m tiu tan. ( Ch sa mc tn ti ). Bnh minh hy vng v n hn, tiu tan.
33

Slo queda el desierto. Un ondulado desierto.

Ch sa mc tn ti. Sa mc dy sng.

Cch s dng Ly ca Lorca c du n c bit. Nhiu khi ng ch ly c mt ch. Ngi c s b ch lp li ny a n cu hi: C g? v cu tr li dn n mt cm nhn v mt l do tru tng bn trong. V d nh ly ch amarilla, amarillo (mu vng). En la torre amarilla dobla una campana. Sobre el viento amarillo se abren las campanadas. En la torre amarilla cesa la campana. El viento con el polvo hace proras de plata. ( Campana) Nhi cu: Me mir en tus ojos pensando en tu alma. Adelfa blanca. Anh thy anh trong mt em bn khon ngh n hn em ni no. i, trng i ngn Trc o.
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T lu cao mu vng hi chung . Theo cn gi mu vng nhc chung n hoa (11) Trn lu cao mu vng chung ngng ting. Gi thi bi m nh bng ma m m. (12)

Me mir en tus ojos pensando en tu boca. Adelfa roja. Me mir en tus ojos Pero estabas muerta! Adekfa negra. (Remansillo) m on: Sobre el cielo de las margaritas ando. Yo imagino esta tarde que soy santo. Me pusieron la luna en las manos. Yo la puse otra vez en los espacios, y el Senor me premi con la rosa y el halo. Sobre el cielo de las margarita ando. Y ahora voy por este campo. A librar a las ninas

Anh thy anh trong mt em cht thng nh n hn mm ngy nao i, i ngn Trc o. Anh thy em trong mt anh thy vo ci cht ngi thm u su. i, en i, ngn Trc o.

Di tri hoa cc Ti i. Tng tng hm nay Ti l thn thnh. H t mt trng vo gia i tay. Ti treo mt trng vo gia v tr. Thng thng ti hoa hng, ho quang. Di tri hoa cc Ti i. By gi ti s xung cnh ng ny cu tr th ngy
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de galanes malos y dar monedas de oro a todos los muchachos Sobre el cielo de las margaritas ando. ( Cuatro baladas amarillas)

thot tay k d ang pht tin vng cho nhng cu tr. Di tri hoa cc Ti i.

T thi ca truyn thng ca ty ban Nha bc vo Tng Trng, Lorca thng s dng mt k thut kh xa v thay vo nhng chi tit cch tn. ng nhn cch ha s kin, s vt; ng tm s ha cnh tng, th vt thm ch l quan nim din t th.

La Balada Del Agua Del Mar

El mar sonre a lo lejos. Dientes de espuma, labios de cielo. Qu vendes, oh joven turbia con los senos al aire? Vendo, seor, el agua de los mares. Qu llevas, oh negro joven, mezclado con tu sangre? Llevo, seor, el agua de los mares. Esas lgrimas salobres de dnde vienen, madre? 36

Bi Ca Nc Bin
Bin ci t xa. Rng bt trng mi ng chn tri. Ny c hu lm cm, c bn th g vi i v cha ra chng gi? Tha ng, em bn nc bin. Ny c da en, c mang theo th g pha mu mu m? Tha ng, em mang nc bin M i, dng nc mt mn n t u?

Lloro, seor, el agua de los mares. Corazn, y esta amargura seria, de dnde nace? Amarga mucho el agua de los mares! El mar sonre a lo lejos. Dientes de espuma, labios de cielo.

Con , m khc nc bin Tim i, nm m cay ng ny do u m c? ng cay do nc bin. Bin ci t xa. Rng bt trng mi ng chn tri.

V cch trnh by bi th, ng thng dng hnh thc chui th thng thy trong truyn thng thi ca u Chu. Nhng trong chui th ca ng a phn nhng on th khng lin tc, ch c tnh cch tp hp. Mi on th trnh by mi kha cnh, mi tm tnh v nhiu on cho thy tng th ca bi th. ng thng gi l Ca khc hoc T khc. Ng lc n t tch ly kin thc v thc tp lu ngy cho n khi tr thnh kinh nghin thun thc. Ni mt cch khc l khng phi suy ngh khi sng tc. Ng lc n t nhin khi cn thit. Ni mt cch khc na, ng lc lun lun phi l ng lc ca ai. Ng lc ca mi thi s thnh danh u c th. Ng thut chnh l chiu thc, cch by b ngn ng v k hiu. Din lc mi l ni lc by t v thuyt phc. Din lc l sc mnh m thm lin kt, nho trn ng thut din t. Din lc thnh tu ra sao l do sc mnh sng to i qua c tnh m thnh hnh. Kh nng sng to mnh v bc th tc gi sng tc nhiu v xut thn. (Mi c tp ty lun Nhp v Nt 1 & 2 ca Ngu Yn.) Din lc ca Federico Garcia Lorca trong trng hp ny. ng sng tc khe, chng nhng th, bi vit cn sng tc kch bn v dn dng cho sn khu kch ngh. ng qua i sm nhng li nhiu tc phm c gii thng ngon ngng m. Din lc ca Federico Garcia Lorca a th ca ng n bn cht v ni dung Thm v Thu nhiu hn l Thng. (Xin c bi Thng Thm Thu trong tc phm Nhp v Nt, tp 2.).
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Bn cht v ni dung Thm c l chim hu ht phn trm trong dng th ca ng. Bi l, tng trng v siu thc u ch yu trnh by nhng nim v t duy v tru tng, nhn sinh, trit hc, siu hnh.....Do , bi th cn c thi gian thm thu, tiu ha. THM chnh l ni tm hiu ni lc ca Federico Garcia Lorca. Nhn x t chung trong thi ca, Thm v Thu l hai yu tnh ca th. Thm thng thy trong th Ty Phng. Thu thng thy trong th ng Phng. Thm n t cm l ri t duy. Thu n t cm nghim bi trc gic hoc linh cm. Vt qua thi k Hu Hin i, khi trit hc v vn hc gia ng v Ty giao ha, th hm nay gm c hai yu tnh Thm v Thu. 3. TC PHM. Nhn i qua tc phm ca Federicio Garcia Lorca, chng ta s dng chn nhng im mc quan trng trong cuc i ca ng v chim nghim cht Thm trong nhng bi th v d dc theo con ng sng tc. Nm 11 tui, gia nh ng di v thnh ph Granada. Bt u tip xc vi i sng ph th. Trong giai on mi ln, ng yu thch m nhc hn thi ca. Hc chi dng cm v ngng m nhng ti nng c in nh Beethoven, Chopin, Debussy...Nm 1920, khi bc vo thi ca ng tr thnh bn thn vi nh son nhc Manuel de Falla, nhc dn ca Spanish. T nm 1919, nhn dp thng gh chi qun Cf Alameda trong ph Granada, ng c dp gp g nhng ti nng vn ngh trong nhm El Rinconcillo. Mt trong nhng gio s ca i hc ca Granada, ng Don Fernando de los Rios, l th lnh ca ng x hi Ty Ban Nha, thuyt phc cha m ca Federico cho ng vo chng trnh hc Residencia de Estudiantes ti Madrid. Ni y ng c lm quen vi nhng t tng t do ca ng x hi cp tin. Qua con ng ny, ng tip xc v pht trin vo nn vn chng hin i ca th gii. ng giao du vi nhng tn tui thi danh trong mi lnh vc nh hi ha, thi ca, tiu thuyt, iu khc....nh Claudel, Valry, Cendras, Max Jacob.......v thi s ni ting ca Ty Ban Nha thi l Juan Ramn Jimnez. Nhng phi ni n ba ngi bn thn nh hng n cuc i v s nghip ngh thut ca Lorca l thi s Rafael Alberti, ha s Salvador Dal v nh sn xut phim nh Luis Bunel. Nht l Dal. Lorca l ngi ng tnh luyn i nn i vi Dal l mt mi tnh vt ln tnh bng hu.
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S hin din v s ri b ca Dal trong i ca Lorca l nhng thi im hnh phc v sng gi li mt thin th ca Oda a Salvador Dal. Trch: Trn tt c ti ht cho suy t thng nht cng bn nhau thi u m hay huy hong. Ngh thut khng phi l nh sng m qung. l tnh, l bng hu, l ngn ng thn giao. .......................... Pero ante todo canto un comn pensamiento que nos une en las horas oscuras y doradas. No es el Arte la luz que nos ciega los ojos. Es primero el amor, la amistad o la esgrima. (9) ............................. Th theo th t thi gian sng tc cho n khi ng qua i, cho ngi c nhn thy tin trnh ca mt hn th i t cm nhn bn nhy vi i sng nhng khng bi quan, ri bin chuyn thnh t duy su thm vi hnh nh u m v cm nhn tht vng. S pht trin l hnh trng t nhin ca mt ngi i su vo ngh thut. Phi chng ngh thut l ci cuc ngi ngh s o su vo lng i? ci h su ny tr thnh huyt m ca chnh anh ta? Tp th u tin LIBRO DE POEMAS, Book of Poems. Gm nhng bi th t nm 1918-1920. n hnh nm 1921. a s nghin v suy t tn gio, thin nhin, ni c n v nhng m nh thi th u. Trong giai on ny, th ng mang nhiu tng trng, n d. Nhng cha m nt tinh thn phi l ca siu thc. Nh nhng bi: Corazn nuevo, Con Tim Mi; rboles, Cy; Cantos nuevos, Bi Ht Mi............ Ngn ng v hnh nh cn nh nhng, "dng dng" i din cho t. Khc vi sau ny, ngn ng v hnh nh th ca ng rt c ng, kch lit v i khi cc oan, to nn TRNG LNG cho v t th. Tin trnh ca thi s thng nh vy. Ngn ng, cu c lc ban u thng bay bm, rc r, c thn nhng l ngn ng chung. Ti nng ca thi s c th din t t ng, hnh vn ng ngha, ng gi tr ca ngn ng m ai cng c th hiu. Nhng phi i n khi thi s tm ra ngn ng ring ca h. Cng ngha , cng gi tr m t ng, cu c thuc v t in khc, t in c th ca thi s. cng l l do ti sao thi s cng pht trin kh nng lm th, cng ln ln, th h cng kh hiu. Qua nhng t tng trng, ngn ng chung ca Lorca mang n cho th ng mt sc thi m u. Mt th nhn sinh quan ca tm hn nhy cm phi i din vi by rp cuc i. C th ni,
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 thi im ny ng thnh danh thi s nhng cha t n mc cng phu v nng k. Kh i tc phm ny ra i, ng ang khi s tp th Suites, vi nhng khai ph mi, ng nhn nh v tp th u tay trong l th gi cho cha m ng, thng 4 nm 1921:" Nhng bi th u tay, d nh gi nh th no i na, vn th v v chn tht." .......................... Gi ny, mt tri ln sau nh ngn i, m ng tr v khuy tung ct bi. n gi phi i. Theo ng mn nh, b li trm t. Bn s c gi ngm sao ch trng tiu chm trong bao t. The sun has dissolved now on the crest of the hill, and returning flocks stir up the dust. It's time to go. Leave this narrow path, leave off your meditation. You'll have time later to look at the stars as the worms consume you slowly.

Hy tr v nh Back to your house di ngi lng d under the cricket village! Chc ng ngon Good night, Mr. Lizard. hi bn thn ln! friend! ........................ (Trch bn dch: The Old Lizard. Catherine Brown. Nguyn tc: El lagarto viejo, 1920.) Tm hiu bn cht v ni dung Thm ca th ng trong thi k ny qua bi th El concierto interrumpido, m Nhc Khng Ha iu. Ha roto la armona de la noche profunda, el caldern helado y sooliento de la media luna. Las acequias protestan sordamente Trong m su thm thm cnh vt khng ha m ngng ng dng ngi ng trng ln chng na vng. T lch mng phn i im lng
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arropadas con juncias, y las ranas, muecines de la sombra, se han quedado mudas. En la vieja taberna del poblado ces la triste msica, y ha puesto la sordina a su aristn la estrella ms antigua. E1 viento se ha sentado en los torcales de la montaa oscura, y un chopo solitario - el Pitgoras de la casta llanura quiere dar con su mano centenaria, un cachete a la luna. (El Concierto interrumpido)

bao trm ln lau sy ng im, v ch nhi, chuyn bo tin bng ti, dng nh mi mt im lm. T qun ru trong ngi lng c iu nhc bun lm tt theo ngy ri nhng ngi sao gi nua nht cng m dn theo ting n Quay. Gi lng vo khe ng trong ni rng mt m, Cy Bch Dng hiu qunh gia ng hoang nh Pythagore vi bn tay trm tui tt mt trng l m.

Cht Thm trong nhng bi th u tay khng su lm. Khng c nhiu lp nghin ngm. Nhn sinh quan ca ngi tr cha quay qut tnh i. Th ng nng v phn tng trng cho cm gic. Th tui tr thng nhiu sinh kh. Qua n tp POEMA DEL CANTE JONDO , Poem of the Deep Song. Gm nhng bi th bt u t thng tm nm 1921. Hn mt na s th, ng sng tc trong thi gian ngn: 10 ngy, t ngy 11 n 21 thng 11. ng t nhn nh rng, trong tp th ny, ng s dng nhiu th ht, th dn ca truyn thng Ty Ban Nha. Cu mang y nhiu hnh nh v tinh thn tnh t dn tc. Nhng y cng l lc Lorca v mt s thi s tin phong ty phng bt u hng ng phm cht ca nhng bi th ngn. Tinh thn th Hi C ca Nht ang c sng tc v lan rng khp u Chu. Ngn ng Hi C c ng. T Hi C khi ng tm linh. hi C thm thy theo kiu ng Phng. Phong cch ny lm kinh ngc v thuyt phc nhng thi s ng thi. Lorca nm bt phong cch ny nhanh chng v bn cht yu thin nhin ca ng rt thch hp vi Hi C. Th ng sn c tnh gi t nhng t tng trng. Nhng bi th ngn ca ng
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rt thnh cng, c a vo nhiu tuyn tp th th gii. Bi th El gran espejo c vit trong tinh thn Hi C. Th Hi C thng ng v Thin hoc Pht mn. Lorca vit v o Ky-t. Cu kt Hosanna, bc x c tinh thn Hi C. Vivimos bajo el gran espejo. El hombre es azul! Hosanna! (El gran espejo) Bi Las seis cuerdas theo tinh thn v th th ngn b nh hng bi th phng ng, th ng, Th n nhng rt c tnh Lorca-Tay Ban Nha. Las seis cuerdas La guitarra hace llorar a los sueno. El sollozo de las ahmas perdidas se escapa por su boca redonda. Y como la tarntula, teje una gran estrella pata cazar suspiros, que flotan en su negro aljibe de madera. Su Dy n n Ghi-ta ru chim bao a l. Ting thn thc t linh hn lc loi thot ra ca ming trn. Ri nh con nhn ln ging t hnh ngi sao li bt tng hi th phiu bng qua thng g en. Sng di tm gng soi mnh mng i, lm ngi l su thm! ly Cha ti!

Bn cht v ni dung ca Thm trong tp th ny cng tng ta nh tp th u tay. Tuy c phn gi dn hn nh trong bi La guitarra (n Ghi-ta), De Poema de la Saeta ( T Th V Mi Tn), .... vo thi im ny, dng nh s phn khng v tn gio thng n vi ng. a s ngh s kh lng i theo con ng tn gio c nhiu gio iu v i hi lng tin trit . S
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yu chung t do kh thch hp vi l nghi v s trng pht. S phng tng khin cho ngh s khng th b mnh trong nhng gio iu. Nhng trn ht, ngh s l nhng ngi nhy cm v nm c s "gi to" ca i sng. Kh c th tin vo mt Thng quyn uy, bc i , cng bng li c th nhng s vic kh nn xy ra. Chnh Thng to ra nhng ti li, nhng au kh, nhng xu xa ri gii thch bng nhng l do bt kh t ngh.

Saeta
Cristo moreno pasa de lirio de Judea a clavel de Espaa. Miradlo, por dnde viene! De Espaa. Cielo limpio y oscuro, tierra tostada, y cauces donde corre muy lenta el agua. Cristo moreno, con las guedejas quemadas, los pmulos salientes y las pupilas blancas. Miradlo, por dnde viene! (15)

Mi Tn
ng Christ da ngm en i qua hoa Kn Judea Cm Chng Ty Ban Nha Hy nhn xem, ng n! T ty Ban Nha. Bu tri trong v ti mt t dn dn m, v dng nc chy chm ri. ng Christ da ngm en tc qun di g m cao mt xanh lt. Hy xem ka, ng i!

C l mi ngi c s c mi cu tr li v nhn vt trong bi th. ng Christ l ai?. C phi l Jesus Christ de Nazareth? Nhng sao li da ngm en? Sao li n t Ty ban Nha? Hai cu th: de lirio de Judea / a clavel de Espana, s khin cho ngi c tm Thm phi suy t. Tuyn tp th th ba ca ng l SUITES, vn cn d dang khi ng qua i. Mi n nm 1983 mi n hnh. Vo nm 1923 tr i, Lorca tr thnh ngi sao trong lng th Ty Ban Nha.
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Giai on ny l giai on quan trng trong tin trnh sng tc, ng khm ph ra con ng th m ng s phi i. Tc phm quan trng nh du ng r ny l chui th: En el jardn de las toronjas de luna ( Trong Vn Trng Tri Bi (13) ). Ma h nm 1923, trong mt l th gi cho ngi bn, Lorca gii thch v Vn Trng Tri Bi: " Khu vn ca ti l khu vn c th c, mt khu vn ca nhng g cha thy, nhng c th hin hu, mt khu vn cho nhng a tr v hnh cha c sinh ra...."

El Jardin
Jams naci, jams! Pero pudo brotar. Cada segundo se profundiza y renueva. Cada segundo abre nuevas sendas distintas. Por aqu! Por all! Va mi cuerpo multiplicado. Atravesando pueblos O dormido en el mar. Todo est abierto! Existen Llaves para las claves. Pero el sol y la luna nos pierden y despistan, Y bajo nuestros pies se enmaraan los caminos.

Khu Vn
Cha bao gi, i, cha bao gi thy! bt c lc no cng c th hin ra. Mi giy pht mi nn nao l din. Mi pht giy nghe n i li i. ni ny! ni kia! khu vn khp chn. Bng ngang qua th trn hay chn vi bin su. Khp ni u c th kha m d dng. Nhng i vng nht nguyt la di chng ta. V di i chn bc ri m nhng con ng.

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Aqu contemplo todo lo que pude haber sido. Dios o mendigo, agua o vieja margarita. Mis mltiples senderos teidos levemente hacen una gran rosa alrededor de mi cuerpo.

Cho ti nhn tin mi Khu vn c th l n my hay Thng hoa cc hay nc tri. ng n mun vn no nhng ch thy m m ha thnh hoa hng l qun quanh khu vn ti.

Como un mapa imposible, el jardn de lo posible. Cada segundo se profundiza y renueva. Jams naci, jams! Pero pudo brotar! (17)

Bn dn sai lc khu vn c th tm. Tng giy tng pht mt nn nao mun hin thn. Cha bao gi, i, cha bao gi thy! coi chng hin ra bt c lc no!

Bi th ny dn ngi c n mt ni tru tng m Lorca khm ph ra, mt ci ring m ng chn lm ngh thut. Bt u t thi im ny, th ca ng r vo con ng suy t su thm hn, cm xc bi quan hn v khng kh ngh thut ca cc tc phm huyn hoc hn. Tc phm tip theo l CANCIONES, 1921-1924, gm nhng bi th mang bn cht ca khc hoc t khc nh nhng tp th trc, d nhin l m hn v "kh hiu" hn.

Verlaine
La cancin, que nunca dir, se ha dormido en mis labios. La cancin, que nunca dir.

Verlaine
Bi ca cha bao gi ht trn u li ng say. Bi ht cha bao gi ca.
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Sobre las madreselvas haba una luvirnaga, y la luna picaba con un rayo en el agua. Entonces yo son, la cancin, que nunca dir. Cancin llena de labios y de cauces lejanos. Cancin llena de horas perdidas en la sombra. Cancin de estrella viva sobre un perpetuo da.(18)

Trn cnh Kim Ngn om m nhp nhy trng a mt nc nhng t nh trng. L lc ti m mng bi ca cha bao gi ht. Bi ht tro qua mi ni tri vin x. Bi ca vui qua gi khi ngh chn bng mt. Bi ht lm ngi sao sng li gia tri cao bt tn nng ngy.

Bi ca m ng nh ht l bi ca g? C phi l bi ht ngi ca thi ti ca Verlaine? " Trng a mt nc, nhng nh trng", phi chng l thi ca ngi ngh s n trn gian? "...ngi sao sng li, gia tri cao bt tn nng ngy", phai chng th ca Paul Verlaine mi vi chng ta cho n hm nay v ngy mai...? C th kt lun chung rng th Siu Thc l th ca cht Thm. N i hi ngi c phi cu mang bi th, cu th theo thi gian. C khi chng bao gi cm nhn c. Nh bn cht thm ny m chng ta c th phn nh c th Siu Thc v th nhi siu thc. Th nhi siu thc ch c ch m khng c thm. Nhi siu thc l nhi ngn ng, nhi hnh nh, nhi b dng. Khng nhi c chiu su ca t th. Hm nay, ngi ta thng nhn danh Hu Hin i, mt loi hin i lm dng, nhi nhng bi th thm v thu bng ngn t dao giy. m vo lng th, khng chy mu. Tc phm tip theo l tp th PRIMER ROMANCERO GITANO, 1924 -1927, Tnh Ca Du Mc Gypsy. tc phm ny va l mt thnh cng ln va l mt tht bi ca tm tnh. Gm nhng bi th vit theo th Ballad, mt th th truyn thng ca Ty Ban Nha. Mt th th bnh dn mang bn cht k chuyn, c ngun gc t ca v khc, n t Php. Trong thi im ny, th th
46

Ballad vn thnh hnh Ty Ban Nha. Khi nhng bi th ny ra i, ng c n tip nhit lit. V tr thi s ca ng cng vng vng v sng t trn vn n ty Ban Nha. Ngi dn nhng vng thn qu t tp c th ng trong nhng ngy l lc. Trong lc s thnh cng rt rng r, lng ng li au bun. Ngi bn thn, ngi tnh, ha s Salvador Dal, cng khai ch trch nhng bi th ny. C phi chng v s tr v ngun ca Lorca lm cho ng cch bit vi phong thi cng ngy cng hin i ca Dal? Con ng pht trin ngh thut ca mt ngh s thng c th biu hin bng ng zch -zc. Zch ln l giai on tin ti hin i. Zc xung l giai on lui v truyn thng. Ni tm ca ngh s lun lun c s ging co gia truyn thng v cch tn. Khi sng to v khm ph y sng tc i ti, i ln, tip cn vi ngh thut tin phong, ngh thut cp tin lp tc c mt lc nghi ng y lui. Sau mt thi gian sng tc vi ngh thut "mi", ngi ngh s thng lui li nhn ngm nhng thnh qu cp tin. S nghi ng v s t xt li, t nh gi nhng tc phm s lm cho ngh s dng chn hoc thi lui, trc khi quyt nh s tip tc cch tn hay li li hay chn thi bo ha. Trong mt thi gian hoc mt i, nh cao v y thp ca ng biu hin zch-zc, cho bit s pht trin ngh thut ca mt tc gi. D nhin, y ch l tng trng v ngh thut khng th o lng bng con s. Khoa hc biu ngy nay dng nhng "phc ha" ghi nhn khoa nhn vn. Nhng ch "v" c hnh th m khng o c kh lc. V d: Tin trnh ngh thut tin phong. Tin trnh ngh thut bo th

Lorca cng khng ngoi l. on th di y cho thy Lorca lui v vi dng th Ballad, Tnh Ca v truyn k trc khi ng khi hnh v mt phng tri mi. Nhng ngi ng thi li c v ng nhiu hn khi th ca ca ng ng vo truyn thng. Dng nh s mnh chung ca nhng ngh s tin phong l b lng qun trong thi i ca h.
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Mc thng ngon trung bnh ca s ng, t khi gip ch cho s pht trin ngh thut, thng khi ko xung khi ngh thut bay ln; thng khi bao vy, tng bc, khen ch, bp ngh thut nght th; thng khi quay lng, chng i khi ngh thut thm him. Khi xut bn tp th Tnh Ca Du Mc, Lorca ri vo tnh trng ny. Trong lc ho quang c v vy ba ly ng th ng li u t, t hi, t nh gi ly ngi v c vng nguyt qu. V y cng l thi ca ngi ngh s chn chnh. ............................................... - Compadre, quiero cambiar mi 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 morir decentemente en mi cama. De acero, si puede ser, con las sbanas de holanda. No ves la herida que tengo desde el pecho a la garganta? - Trescientas rosas morenas lleva tu pechera blanca. Tu sangre rezuma y huele alrededor de tu faja. Pero yo ya no soy yo. Ni mi casa es ya mi casa. - Dejadme subir al menos hasta las altas barandas, dejadme subir!, dejadme hasta las verdes barandas. - " Bc i,chu xin i, nga chin cho cn nh, yn cng cho gng soi, gm dao cho mn gi. bc i, chu b thng m mu, tr v t trn Cabra " (*). - " Chu i, nu c th bc s gip chu ngay nhng bc chng l ai sng khng nh khng ca". - " Bc i, chu mun cht ni y trn ging ring t t, ging st, nu c th tri khn mn m m. Bc c thy vt thng chm t c xung ngc?". - " Ba trm bng hng sm bm o trng tinh. Mu r bc mi tanh ng quanh dy lng tht. Nhng bc chng l ai sng khng nh khng ca". - " Hy cho chu ln cui leo ln lan can cao. chu leo! chu leo! ln lan can xanh sng.
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Barandales de la luna por donde retumba el agua. (19) (Trch: Romance sonmbulo)

Lan can ca nh trng ni dng sng go tht".

(*) Cabra: min tnh trong vng Cordba, Andalusia, pha nam ty Ban Nha. Ni tri qua nhiu chin trn t thi xa nh nhau vi La M v nhng trn chin ni ting trong thi Ni Chin.

Khi ng tr thnh thi s ca dn tc, thng ngon mn m, ph bnh ca ngi lm cho ng s hi. ng phi chy trn nhng trng pho tay, nhng bo ch vi li ngi ca, nhng tm lng i m ca thng ngon v ng bit r nhng ho nhong ny s git cht th v git cht Lorca. Mt trong nhng li hi n ng hn th chnh l s ngi ca ca thng ngon. Nh mt chn mt ngt, khi ri vo, kh m bay ln, bay cao. Nu lm th ch v mun ngi khc bit n mnh, ch v mun ghi tn vo vn hc, th ngi lm th s dng li sn khu vinh quang. Nhng Lorca chy trn. ng ri b qu nh. Chy sang New York. Ni m ng hon tt tp th POETA EN NUEVA YORK. Mt phong thi khc, mt gi tr khc, mt th bt t dng ln t th Federico Garcia Lorca. GHI: (1) Phong tro Tng Trng xut hin vo cui th k 19. Trng phi ngh thut n t Php, Nga v B, bt u t thi ca v hi ha ri pht trin ra nhng lnh vc ngh thut khc. C th ni, phong tro ny bt ngun t tc phm Les Fleurs du mal ca Charles Baudelaire. c hai thi s Stphane Mallarm v Paul Verlaine khai ph v em li mt phong tro ngh thut sng tc ln mnh ti u Chu. (2) Siu Thc hon tt l mt phong tro vn ha. Xut hin vo nm 1920. Bt u t ngh thut to hnh v vn chng. Ngi ch xng trng phi Siu Thc l thi s Andr Breton. C th ni, Siu Thc l mt phong tro sng tc ln nht trong lch s ngh thut th gii. (3) Se ha puesto el sol (Agosto de 1920)

49

Se ha puesto el sol. Los boles meditan como estatuas. Ya est el trigo segado. Qu tristeza de las norias paradas! Un perro campesino quiere comerse a Venus, y le ladra. Brilla sobre su campo de pre-beso, como una gran manzana. Los mosquitos - pegasos del roco vuelan, el aire en calma. La Penlope inmensa de la luz teje una noche clara. 'Hijas mas, dormid, que viene el lobo", las ovejitas balan. "Ha llegado el otono, companeras?", dice una flor ajada. Ya vendrn los pastores con sus modos por la sierra lejana! Ya jugarn las ninas en la puerta de la vieja posada, y habr coplas de amor que ya se saben de memoria las casas. (4) Madrugada Pero como el amor los saeteros
50

estn ciegos. Sobre la noche verde, las saetas dejan rastros de lirio caliente. La quilla de la luna rompe nubes moradas y las aljabas se llenan de roco. Ay, pero como el amor los saeteros estn ciegos! (5) Castanet Castanet. Castanet. Castanet. Sonorous scarab. In the spider of the hand you crimp the warm air, and drown in your wooden trill. Castanet. Castanet. Castanet. Sonorous scarab.
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(6) El stiro blanco Sobre narcisos inmortales Dorma el stiro blanco. Enormes cuernos de cristal Virginizaban su ancha frente. El sol como un dragn vencido Lama sus largas manos de doncella. Flotando sobre el ro del amor Todas las ninfas muerta desfilaban. El corazn del stiro en el viento Se oreaba de viejas tempestades. La siringa en el suelo era una fuente Con siete azules caos cristalinos (7) El Camino No conseguir nunca tu lanza herir al horizonte. La montana es un escudo que lo guarda. No suenes con la sangre de la luna y descansa. pero deja, camino, que mis plantas
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exploren la caricia de la rociada. ..................................... ...................................... No conseguir nunca tu lanza herir al horizonte. La montana es un escudo que lo guarda. ............................... Dando vueltas al mundo, no encontrars camposanto ni mortaja, ni el aire del amor renovar tu sustancia. .............................. (8) Muerte Qu esfuerzo! Qu esfuerzo del caballo por ser perro! Qu esfuerzo del perro por ser golondrina! Qu esfuerzo de la golondrina por ser abeja! Qu esfuerzo de la abeja por ser caballo! Y el caballo, qu flecha aguda exprime de la rosa!, qu rosa gris levanta de su belfo! Y la rosa, qu rebao de luces y alaridos ata en el vivo azcar de su tronco! Y el azcar, qu pualitos suea en su vigilia! y los puales,
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qu luna sin establos, qu desnudos!, piel eterna y rubor, andan buscando Y yo, por los aleros, qu serafn de llamas busco y soy! Pero el arco de yeso, qu grande, qu invisible, qu diminuto!, sin esfuerzo. How hard they try! What effort the horse makes To be a dog! What effort the dog to become a swallow! What effort the swallow to be a bee! What effort the bee to become a horse! And the horse, what a sharp shaft it steals from the rose! what grey rosiness lifts from its lips! And the rose, what a flock of lights and cries caught in the living sap of its stem! And the sap, what thorns it dreams in its vigil! And the tiny daggers what moon, and no stable, what nakedness, skin eternal and reddened, they go seeking! And I, in the eaves, what a burning seraph I seek and am! But the arch of plaster, how vast, invisible, how minute, without effort! Bn dch: A.S. Kline. Death.

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(9) Gacela del recuerdo del amor No te lleves tu recuerdo. Djalo solo en mi pecho, temblor de blanco cerezo en el martirio de enero. Me separa de los muertos un muro de malos sueos . Doy pena de lirio fresco para un corazn de yeso. Toda la noche en el huerto mis ojos, como dos perros. Toda la noche, corriendo los membrillos de veneno. Algunas veces el viento es un tulipn de miedo, es un tulipn enfermo, la madrugada de invierno. Un muro de malos sueos me separa de los muertos. La niebla cubre en silencio el valle gris de tu cuerpo.

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Por el arco del encuentro la cicuta est creciendo. Pero deja tu recuerdo djalo solo en mi pecho. (11) se abren las campanadas, chuyn l (ting chung) vang xa. bn dch ca Cola Franzen: the bell-notes flower.chuyn l, nhc chung n hoa. (12) hace viento de plata, bn dch Cola Franzen: shapes silver prows: hnh dng mi thuyn mu xm Proras: Tn mt thnh ph Andalusia (Vit hoa). Thnh ng "Go to devil", v phe qu s. (13) Bn dch: Seven F. White. Ode to Salvador Dal. ..................... But above all I sing a common thought that joins us in the dark and golden hours. The light that blinds our eyes is not art. Rather it is love, friendship, crossed swords..... (14) The guitar causes dreams to weep. The sobs of lost souls escape through its round mouth. And like the tarantula it weaves a large star to trap the sighs floating in its black wooden cistern. Bn dch: Cola Franzen. The Six Strings.
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(15) Arrow. Dark-skinned Christ changes from lily of Judea to carnation of Spain. Look where he comes from! From Spain. Sky clear and dark, scorched earth, and riverbeds where water runs ever so slowly. Dark-skinned Christ, with long, burnt hair, high cheekbones, and his pupils, white. Look where he goes! (http://www.poemadeamor.net/2005/10/federico-garcia-lorca-saeta-poemas-en_1131.html (16) Grapefruit Moon:Trng trn, mu vng ng sang . (17) The Garden Was never born, never, but could burst into life. Every moment it's deepened, restored.

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Every moment it opens new unheard-of pathways. Over here! over there! See my multiple bodies. passing through pueblos or asleep in the ocean? Everything open! Locks to fit every key. But the sun & moon lose & delude us & under our feet the highway are tangled. Here I'll mull over all I once could have been. God or beggar, water or old marguerite. My multiple paths barely stained now form this enormous rose encircling my body. Like an impossible map the garden of the possible every moment is deepened, restored. Was never born, never, but could burst into life.
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Bn dch: Jerome Rothenberg. (18) Verlaine The song I'll never speak, on the tip of my tongue fell asleep. The song I'll never speak. On the honeysuckle a firefly blinked and the moon was pricking the water with a beam. It was then I dreamed the song I'll never speak. Song filled with lips, flowing from far away. Song filled with hours whiled away in the shade. Song of stars alive in perpetual daytime skies. (Bn dch: Alan S. Trueblood) (19) My friend, I want to trade my horse for her house,
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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 die decently 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 a round 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.

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Tc Phm Th: Libro de poemas (1921) Poema del cante jondo (1921) Primeras canciones (1922) Canciones (1921-1924) Romancero gitano (1924-1927) Poeta en Nueva York (1929-1930 Llanto por Ignacio Snchez Mejas Seis poemas gallegos Divan del Tamarit Poemas sueltos Cantares Populares

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Tuyn Tp Th
62

GHI: Bn ting Anh dch bi Catherine Brown. Nhng bn dch khc c ghi ch.

TUY N TP TH. LIBRO DE POEMAS

Con Tim Mi
thng 6, 1918. Tim ti nh rn lt da. Tay cm y mt, ngt l vt au. Bao trm t ct du vo np nhn em gi, bit u by gi? Hoa hng no hin hng ch Cha v c qu (1) phng th c hai? (1- Jesus and Satan). Lo nho lp v mt ngoi m h huyn thoi trang i cht chiu / ln da mu c hm hiu ca ln yu trc nay yu khng cn! ! Bo thai trn tr ho hon lm th kh cn, lm mn mi ti ho huyn n mt ca i v ngy th c ca thi yu nhau. Hay treo em ln vch cao trong hn c vin lao ao n tnh trong tm ti, lnh rng mnh ho cnh hoa Hu (2) ti tnh, phi khng?
(2) Iris: Dng hoa Din V, Lng ng.Lirio: Mt loi hoa Hu.

Hay cng em ln nh thng - bao trang tnh s t lng xt xacho em tp ht bi ca t Sn Ca ht tu ha bnh minh?
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Corazn Nuevo
Juno de 1918 (Granada) Mi corazn, como una sierpe, se ha desprendido de su piel, y aqu la miro entre mis dedos llena de heridas y de miel. Los pensamiento que anidaron en tus arrugas, dnde estn? Dnde las rosas que aromaron a Jesucristo y a Satn? Pobre envoltura que ha oprimido a mi fantstico lucero! Gris pergamino dolorido de lo que quise y ya no quiero. Yo veo en ti fetos de ciencias, momias de versos y esqueletos de mis antiguas inocencias y mis romnticos secretos. Te colgar sobre los muros de mi museo sentimental, junto a los glidos y oscuros lirios durmientes de mi mal? O te pondr sobre los pinos, -libro doliente de mi amorpara que sepas de los trinos que da a la aurora el ruiseor?
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New Heart
Bd: Zoe Kipping My heart, like a snake, has shed its skin, and here I look at it between my fingers, full of wounds and honey. The thoughts that nested in your folds, where have they gone? Where are the roses that gave off aromas to Jesus Christ and Satan? Poor wrapper that has oppressed my fantastic bright star! Gray aching scroll of what I once loved but love no more. I see fetal knowledge in you, mummies of verses and skeletons of my ancient innocence and my secret romances. Shall I hang you up on the walls of my sentimental museum, together with the cold and dark sleeping irises of my misfortune? Or shall I suspend you in the pines bereaved book of my love for you to learn of the warbling that the nightingale dedicates to the dawn?

New Heart
Bd: Catherine Brown. Like a snake, my heart has shed its skin. I hold it here in my hand, full of honey and wounds. The thoughts that nested in your folds, where are they now? Where the roses that perfumed both Jesus Christ and Satan? Poor wrapper that damped my fantastical star, parchment gray and mournful or what I loved once but love no more! I see fetal sciences in you, mummified poems, and bones of my romantic secrets and old innocence. Shall I hang you on the wall of my emotional museum, beside my dark, chill, sleeping irises of evil? Or shall T spread you over the pines - suffering book of my loveso you can learn about the song the nightingale offers the dawn
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Chong Chng Gi
Ghi: Bi th v suy ngh v tm s ca ci chong chng gi, ch hng gi v thi tit. Nhn vt "ta" chnh l chong chng v nhn vt "ngi" l gi.

Gi Nam. Thi bi m hi nng thi ln ta dnh nhng ht mm thy sng lng lnh thm mi hoa cam. Gi khin trng ha lm rng Dng cm thy mt t do, khi ngi n tht qu mun! ta cun ly m ct vo ngy qu kh. Khng c gi, Coi chng! Con tim, xoay. Con tim ta, xoay. Gi Bc hiu hiu. , gi Bch Hng! (1) Thi ln ta run ry c bnh minh phng bc, Dim Vng mc o chong,
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ln ting ci ng Dante (2) . Ny, k lm p tinh t! Khi ngi n tht qu mun. i ta mc meo v mt lun cha kha. Khng c gi Coi chng! Con tim, xoay. Con tim ta, xoay. Thn thi hiu hiu phng no gi n. Mui np trong hoa hng cnh hoa n lp lp. Gi ng (3) mt thi quen gia l cnh hung hng rt go trong ging bo, hy bay i! K c ta kha kn nh chim b giam cm ang lu lo phc ha hnh nh bui chiu. Vn vt i khng bao gi tr li ai cng bit. Gia ln gi trong lnh ng ct li than trch! Ny, Bch Dng, s ph gi, c ng khng?
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than trch chng ch g! Khng c gi Coi chng! Con tim, xoay Con tim ta, xoay

(1) White bear of the wind: Gi n t phng bc, ni c gu lng trng.

(2) Alighieri Dante l tc gi ca tc phm La Commedia. Nhn vt trong trng thi ny i xung my tng a ngc trc khi ln cnh gii thin ng. Mt trong nhng tc phm quan trng k tip nhng s thi ca Homer. (3) Alisios: Gi ng thng xut hin trong min nhit i. (*) Sin ningn viento, hazme caso! Gira, corazn, gira, corazn...lm bi th tr thnh bi kch. Gi Nam, gi bc khng lm cnh qut chong chng xoay m khi khng c gi, phi canh chng v chong chng s xoay nh bi kch ca tri tim ngi.

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Veleta
Julio de 1920. (Fuente Vaqueros, Granada) Viento del Sur. Moreno, ardiente, llegas sobre mi carne, trayndome semilla de brillantes miradas, empapado de azahares. Pones roja la luna y sollozantes los lamos cautivos, pero vienes demasiado tarde! Ya he enrollado la noche de mi cuento en el estante! Sin ningn viento, hazme caso! Gira, corazn; gira, corazn. Aire del Norte, oso blanco del viento!, llegs sobre mi carne temboloroso de auroras boreales, con tu capa de espectros capitanes, y riyndote a gritos
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del Dante. Oh pulidor de estrellas! Pero vienes demasiado tarde. Mi almario est musgoso y he perdido la llave. Sin ningn viento, hazme caso! Gira, corazn; gira, corazn. Brisas, gnomos y vientos De ninguna parte, Mosquitos de la rosa De ptalos pirmides, Alisios destetados Entre los rudos rboles, Flautas en la tormenta, Dejadme! Tiene recias cadenas Mi recuerdo, Y est cautiva el ave Que dibuja con trinos La tarde. Las cosas que se van no vuelven nunca, Todo el mundo lo sabe, Y entre el claro gento de los vientos Es intil quejarse. Verdad, chopo, maestro de la brisa? Es intil quejarse!
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Sin ningn viento, Hazme caso! Gira, corazn; Gira, corazn.

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Weather vane
Bd: A. S. Kline Wind of the South. Dark-haired, ardent, you come over my flesh bringing me seed of brilliant gazes, soaked in orange blossom. You make the moon red and make a sobbing in the captive poplars, but you come too late! Ive rolled up the night of my story on the shelf! Without any wind, Look out! Spin, heart; spin, heart. Breeze of the North, white bear of the wind!, you come over my flesh trembling with auroras boreales, with your cloak of spectral captains and screaming with laughter

at Dante. O polisher of stars! But you come too late. My chest is covered with moss and Ive lost the key. Without any wind, Look out! Spin, heart; spin, heart. Gnomish airs, and winds from nowhere. Mosquitoes of the rose with pyramidal petals, Trade winds weaned among the rough trees, flutes in the tempest, leave me be! Strong chains hold my memory, and the bird is captive whose warbling draws the evening. The things that are gone never return, all the world knows that, and among the clear crowd of the winds its useless to complain. Isnt that so, poplar, master of the breeze? Its useless to complain!
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Without any wind, Look out! Spin, heart; spin, heart.

Weathervane
Bd: Catherine Brown South wind. Dark and burning, soaked with orange blossoms, you come over my flesh, bring me seed of brillian gazes. You turn the moon red, make captive poplar moan, but you've come too late! I've already scrolled up the night of my tale on shelf! Without any wind Look sharp! Turn, heart. Turn, my heart. Northern air, white bear of the wind! You come over my flesh

shivering with boreal auroras, with your cape of phantom captains, laughing aloud at Dante. Oh polisher of stars! But you've come too late. My case is musty and I've lost the key. Without any wind Look sharp! Turn, heart. Turn, my heart. Gnome breezes and winds from nowhere. Mosquitoes of the rose with pyramid petals. Trade winds weaned among rough trees, flutes in the storm, begone! My memory is chained captive the bird that sketches the evening in song Things that go away never return everybody knows that, And in the bright crowd of the winds there's no use complaining!
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Am I right, poplar, teacher of the breeze? There's no use complaining! Without any wind

Look sharp! Turn, heart. Turn, heart.

74

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cy
1919 Cy i! C phi xa l mi tn t tri ri xung? chin chinh k no / kinh hong nh ngi ng nho? Phi chng l nhng v sao im lm? Ngi bng nhc t hn chim t mt Thng t nim am m Cy i! r mc xum xu bit chng li t no v tim ta?

Cy
Cy i! C phi ngi l mi tn rt xung t tri? Chin s no hung d x ngi ri? Phi chng l tinh t? Nhc trong ngi n t hn chim n t mt Thng n t nng nhit am m. Cy i! Gc r hung hng ngi c bit tim ta ang vi trong t su?
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

rboles
1919 rboles! Habis sido flechas cadas del azul? Qu terribles guerreros os lanzaron? Han sido las estrellas? Vuestras msicas vienen del alma de los pjaros, de los ojos de Dios, de la pasin perfecta. Arboles! Conocern vuestras races toscas mi corazn en tierra?

Trees
Bd: Catherine Brown Trees! Were you once arrows fallen from blue? What terrible warriors cast you down? The stars? Yours music springs from the soul of birds, from the eyes of God, from perfect passion. Trees! Will you tough roots know my heart in the soil?
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gi Khc Ca Sao m
1920 S im lng hon chnh ca m, mt nt nhc trn khung v tn. Hon tt (1) bi th d dang, bc ra ng la th. Bng ti, y n mt ting d m than van, m thanh mang ni cht lp le la ma tri (*) Nhc n trong nh sng nghe thm thu hn ngi. Ngn b xng bm bm say ng gia vn nh. Mt n gi ti mt trn dng sng, thi qua. Mature: Hon thin, hon tt. (2) will-o-the-wisp: la ma.
(1)Maduro:

77

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Hora de Estrellas
1920 El silencio redondo de la noche sobre el pentgrama del infinito. Yo me salgo desnudo a la calle, maduro de versos perdidos. Lo negro, acribillado por el cantodel grillo, tiene ese fuego fatuo, muerto, del sonido. Esa luz musical que percibe el espiritu. Los esqueletos de mil mariposas duermen en mi recinto. Hay una juventud de brisas locas sobre el ro.

Hour of Stars
1920 The round silence of night, one note on the stave of the infinite. Ripe with lost poems, I step naked into the street. The blackness riddled by the singing of crickets: sound, that dead will-o-the-wisp, that musical light perceived by the spirit. A thousand butterfly skeletons sleep within my walls. A wild crowd of breezes over the river.

78

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

m Nhc Khng Ho iu
Trong m su thm thm cnh vt khng ha m ngng ng dng ngi ng trng ln chng na vng. Ting lch mng phn i im lng, bao trm ln lau sy ng im, v ch nhi, chuyn bo tin bng ti, dng nh mi mt im lm. T qun ru trong ngi lng c iu nhc bun lm tt theo ngy ri nhng ngi sao gi nua nht cng m dn theo ting n Quay (*) Gi lng vo khe ng trong ni rng mt m Cy Bch Dng hiu qunh gia ng hoang nh Pythagore vi bn tay trm tui tt mt trng l m.

79

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

El Concierto Interrumpido
Ha roto la armona de la noche profunda, el caldern helado y sooliento de la media luna. Las acequias protestan sordamente arropadas con juncias, y las ranas, muecines de la sombra, se han quedado mudas. En la vieja taberna del poblado ces la triste msica, y ha puesto la sordina a su aristn la estrella ms antigua. E1 viento se ha sentado en los torcales de la montaa oscura, y un chopo solitario - el Pitgoras de la casta llanura quiere dar con su mano centenaria, un cachete a la luna.

80

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The Interrupted Concert

Bd: Catherine Brown. The half moon, a fermata somnolent and frozen, mark a pause and splits the midnight harmony. Blanketed in sedge, the ditches protest mutely, and frogs, the muezzins of shadow, have fallen silent. In the old town tavern the sad music stopped, and the oldest of stars has damped its hurdy-gurdy. The wind has settled in dark mountain hollows, and a solitary poplar, Pythagoras of chaste plains, wants to lift up its hundred-year-old hand and slap the moon in the face.

81

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bi Ca Mi
Bui chiu ni: "Ta khao kht bng m!" Mt trng ni: "Ta kht khao sao sng !" Dng sui trong cu khn b mi mm, V cn gi khn cu thm hi th. Ti khao kht hng thm v ting ci, Ti kht khao nghe nhng bi ca mi khng ht v hoa (*) khng ht v trng, V khng ht nhng tnh yu tuyt vng. Bi ca bui sm s khuy ng dng nc mai sau ang im lm Vi trn y hy vng dy sng vi c trong. Bi ca xn ln v tnh lng, Cu mang suy t v thm trm, hn nhin khng kh khng bun b th ngy khng mng khng m mng. Bi ca khng cn li Ch l im lng n ting ci (n b cu m mt bay vo chn vin khi) Bi ca chm thu hn vn vt, v chm vo hn cn gi bo, Cui cng bi ca c ngh ngi trong con tim n nhn i i. (*) Lirios: Hoa Hu Ty, cn gi l hoa Kn.
82

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cantos Nuevos
Agosto de 1920 Dice la tarde: 'Tengo sed de sombra!' Dice la luna: 'Yo, sed de luceros!' La fuente cristalina pide labios y suspira el viento. Yo tengo sed de aromas y de risas, sed de cantares nuevos sin lunas y sin lirios, y sin amores muertos. Un cantar de maana que estremezca a los remansos quietos del porvenir. Y llene de esperanza sus ondas y sus cienos. Un cantar luminoso y reposado pleno de pensamiento, virginal de tristeza y de angustias y virginal de ensueos. Cantar sin carne lrica que llene de risas el silencio (una bandada de palomas ciegas lanzadas al misterio). Cantar que vaya al alma de las cosas y al alma de los vientos y que descanse al fin en la alegra del corazn eterno.
83

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. A song that finally rests in the joy Of the heart eternal.

New Songs
August 1920 (Vega de Zujaira) Bd: J.L. Gill

New Songs
Bd: Catherine Brown. The afternoon says:"I am thirsty for shadow!" And the moon: "I want stars." The crystal fountain ask for lips, the wind, for sighs. I'm thirsty for scents and for laughter. Thirsty for new songs without irises or moons, without dead loves. A morning song that can shiver quiet back waters of the future and fill their waves and silt with hope A luminous and tranquil song full of thought, virgin to sadness and anguish, virgin to reverie. A song skinned of lyric, filling silence with laughter. (A flock of blind doves tossed into mystery.)

The afternoon says: "I thirst for a shadow!" The moon says: "I thirst for bright stars!" The crystal clear fountain asks for lips, And the wind for sighs. I thirst for fragrance and laughs, I thirst for new songs Free of moons or lilies, And free of dying loves. A song of tomorrow that will disturb The tranquil waters of the future. And fill with hope Its ripples and its slime. A resplendent and tempered song, Filled with thought, Free of regrets and anguish, And free of fanciful dreams. A song without lyrical flesh that fills Silence with laughter (A flock of blinded doves Cast into the unknown.) A song touching the spirit of everything, And the spirit of the winds,

84

Th Federico Garcia Lorca A song to go to the soul of things, and to the soul of winds, resting at last in the bliss of the eternal heart.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. the quiet still pools of the future. And fill with hope their waves and mud. A song, luminous and restful, full of pensiveness, innocent of miseries and anguish, innocent of dream. A song without lyric substance that fills the silence with laughter. (A flock of blind doves thrown into mystery.) A song that might go to the soul of things and to the soul of the winds and that might rest at last in the joy of the eternal heart.

New songs
(August 1920, Vega de Zujaira) Bd: A.S.Kline The afternoon speaks: I am thirsty for shadows! The moon speaks: I thirst for stars. The crystalline fountain asks for lips and the wind for sighs. I am thirsty for perfumes and laughter. I thirst for new songs without moons or irises, and without loves that have died. A song of the morning that might tremble

85

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Mt Tri Ln
Mt tri ln. Hng cy nh tng, trm t. La gt. Bnh quay nc im ru thy tht bun! Con ch ng qu mun cn sao Kim chm ln sa. Sao sng s ri xung cnh ng nh tri to ln. n mui - ngun th ca git sng bay, khng gian tch mch. nh sng t Penelope mnh mng chiu gc m rc r. "Con gi i, hy ng ngon con si sp tm n," cu con ku la. "Bn i, ma thu cha?" Bng hoa nhn nh hi. By gi, mc t v hang n nu trn ni, tht l xa xi! By gi, b gi a chi sau cnh ca ng kn, nh nh vng ra bi ht yu thng thuc lng.
86

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Mt Tri ln
Mt tri ln. Thy hng cy dng nh tng ng m ngy suy t. Bnh xe quay nc l ng gt ht la dng nh tht bun! Ch qu sa gia m trng chm chm mun cn bt thng sao Kim. T cao sao sng s chm ln nh tri to rng tm t quen. Mui bay tch mch trong m nh ngun th hng ni nim git sng. nh n sng rc mt phng ph Ph-n-lp dm trng xa xa. "B i, hy ng ngon nha si lang sp n," ku la ting cu. "Bn i, tri c vo thu?" Bng hoa heo ho hi ph du thi. By gi, mc t ln i vo hang n np trnh thi kip tai. By gi, ca ng then ci, bn trong con tr an bi vui chi, nh nh ca ht thnh thi bn ngoi nghe vng bao li yu thng bi ca quen thuc bnh thng.
87

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Se Ha Puesto El Sol
Agosto de 1920 Se ha puesto el sol. Los boles meditan como estatuas. Ya est el trigo segado. Qu tristeza de las norias paradas! Un perro campesino quiere comerse a Venus, y le ladra. Brilla sobre su campo de pre-beso, como una gran manzana. Los mosquitos - pegasos del roco vuelan, el aire en calma. La Penlope inmensa de la luz teje una noche clara.

'Hijas mas, dormid, que viene el lobo", las ovejitas balan. "Ha llegado el otono, companeras?", dice una flor ajada. Ya vendrn los pastores con sus modos por la sierra lejana! Ya jugarn las ninas en la puerta de la vieja posada, y habr coplas de amor que ya se saben de memoria las casas.
88

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The Sun Has Set

Bd: Catherine Brown The sun has set, and trees, like statues, meditate. The wheat has all been cut. What sadness in the quiet waterwheels! A country dog hungers for Venus and barks at her. She shines above her pre-kiss field like a great apple. Mosquitoes - Pegasuses of the dew wheel in the still air, Light, that vast Penelope, weaves a brilliant night. "Sleep. my daughter, for the wolf is coming," bleat the little sheep. "Is it autumn yet, my friends?" ask a crumpled flower. Now shepherds will come with their nests across the mountains, far away! Now little girls will play in the old inn's door, and the houses will hear love songs they've long known by heart.
89

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bi Ca Nc Bin
Bin bt ci t xa. Rng bt trng, mi ng chn tri. Ny, c hu lm cm, c bn th g, vi i v cha ra chng gi? Tha ng, em bn nc bin. Ny, c da en, c mang th g pha mu mu m? Tha ng, em mang nc bin. M i, dng nc mt mn n t u? Con , m khc ra nc bin. Tim i, nm m cay ng ny do u m c? ng cay do nc bin. Bin ci t xa. Rng bt trng mi ng chn tri. 90

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

La Balada Del Agua Del Mar

El mar sonre a lo lejos. Dientes de espuma, labios de cielo. Qu vendes, oh joven turbia con los senos al aire? Vendo, seor, el agua de los mares. Qu llevas, oh negro joven, mezclado con tu sangre? Llevo, seor, el agua de los mares. Esas lgrimas salobres de dnde vienen, madre? Lloro, seor, el agua de los mares. Corazn, y esta amargura seria, de dnde nace? Amarga mucho el agua de los mares! El mar sonre a lo lejos. Dientes de espuma, labios de cielo. 91

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. smiles from far off. Teeth of foam, lips of sky.

Ballad of The Water of The Sea

Bd: Lloyd Mallan.

The Sea smiles from far off, Teeth of foam, lips of sky. What do you sell, oh, turbid maid, with your breast to the wind? I sell, sir, the water of the seas. What do you carry, oh, black youth, mixed with your blood? I carry, sir, the water of the seas. These salt tears, Mother, from where do they come? I weep, sir, the water of the seas. Heart, and this grave bitterness, where was it born? Very bitter is the water of the seas! The sea

The Ballad of The Salt-Water

to Emilio Prados Bd: A.S. Kline The sea smiles far-off. Spume-teeth, sky-lips. What do you sell, troubled child, child with naked breasts? Sir, I sell salt-waters of the sea. What do you carry, dark child, mingled with your blood? Sir, I carry salt-waters of the sea. These tears of brine where do they come from, mother? Sir, I cry salt-waters of the sea.

92

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Heart, this deep bitterness, where does it rise from? So bitter, the salt-waters of the sea! The sea smiles far-off. Spume-teeth. Sky-lips.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bi Ca V Qung Trng Nh
Tr em ht trong m thanh vng, i, dng nc trong sui ngun trm lng! Tr em: Nim vui no tri tim thnh ngi ca? Ti: Ting chung lanh lnh lc gia sng m. Tr em: Anh b chng em ht trong qung rng mt mnh. i, dng nc trong sui ngun trm lng! Du hiu no ma xun anh gi trong tay? Ti: Mt hoa Hng mu mt hoa Hu trng tinh.
94

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tr em: Nhng hoa vo sng nhc bi ca thi c xa. i, dng nc trong sui ngun trm lng! Anh cm thy g trong ming thm kht? Ti: Mi v xng s. Tr em: Hy ung ngm th thi t bi ca c xa. i, dng nc trong sui ngun trm lng! Sao anh b qung trng i xa? Ti: Ta i tm ph thy v nhng nng cng cha.

95

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tr em: Ai ch dn anh trn con ng thi s? Ti: Sui ngun v dng trong t bi ca c xa. Tr em: C phi anh i xa, i rt xa ri b i dng v lc a? Ti: Tim ta mm nh la cha chan ngun nh sng, theo ting chung lc loi, vi hoa cng ong bm. Ta s i rt xa, xa hn i ni kia, xa hn nhng bin rng, n gn ngn v sao, nguyn cu Thng tr li ta linh hn khi tui cn th u, khi say m thn tng, i m cm lng g lng eo thanh kim g.
96

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tr em: Anh b chng em ht trong qung trng mt mnh. i, dng nc trong sui ngun trm lng! m mn sinh khc thng theo l ch kh ho tang thng v gi thi, khc i l cht bay.

97

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Balada de La Placeta
Cantan los nios En la noche quieta: Arroyo claro, Fuente serena! LOS NIOS Qu tiene tu divino Corazn en fiesta? YO Un doblar de campanas, Perdidas en la niebla. LOS NIOS Ya nos dejas cantando En la plazuela. . Arroyo claro, Fuente serena! Qu tienes en tus manos De primavera? YO Una rosa de sangre Y una azucena. LOS NIOS Mjalas en el agua De la cancin aeja. Arroyo claro, Fuente serena! Qu sientes en tu boca Roja y sedienta? YO El sabor de los huesos De mi gran calavera. LOS NIOS Bebe el agua tranquila De la cancin aeja. Arroyo claro, Fuente serena! Por qu te vas tan lejos De la plazuela? YO Voy en busca de magos Y de princesas!

98

Th Federico Garcia Lorca LOS NIOS Quin te ense el camino De los poetas? YO La fuente y el arroyo De la cancin aeja. LOS NIOS Te vas lejos, muy lejos Del mar y de la tierra? YO Se ha llenado de luces Mi corazn de seda, De campanas perdidas, De lirios y de abejas, Y yo me ir muy lejos,

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Ms all de esas sierras, Ms all de los mares Cerca de las estrellas, Para pedirle a Cristo Seor que me devuelva Mi alma antigua de nio, Madura de leyendas, Con el gorro de plumas Y el sable de madera. LOS NIOS Ya nos dejas cantando En la plazuela. Arroyo claro, Fuente serena! Las pupilas enormes De las frondas resecas, Heridas por el viento, Lloran las hojas muertas.

99

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ballad of The Little Square

Bd: Stephen Spender v J.L. Gili The children sing in the quiet night: clear stream, serene fountain! THE CHILDREN What joy does your divine heart celebrate? MYSELF A clanging of bells lost in the mist. THE CHILDREN You leave us singing in the little square. Clear stream, serene fountain! What signs of spring do you hold in your hand?

A rose of blood and a white lily.

THE CHILDREN Dip them in the water of the antique song. Clear stream, serene fountain! What do you feel in your mouth scarlet and thirsting? MYSELF The savour of the bones of my great skull. THE CHILDREN Drink the tranquil water of the antique song. Clear stream, serene fountain! Why do you go so far from the little square? MYSELF

100

Th Federico Garcia Lorca I go in search of magicians and of princesses! CHILDREN Who showed you the path of the poets? MYSELF The fountain and the stream of the antique song. THE CHILDREN Do you go far, very far from the sea and the earth? MYSELF My heart of silk is filled with lights, with lost bells, with lilies and bees. I will go very far, farther than those hills, farther than the seas, close to stars, to beg Christ the Lord to give back the soul I have of old, when I was a child, ripened with legends, with a feather cap The enormous pupils of the parched fronds injured by the wind the dead leaves weep. You leave us singing in the little square clear stream, serene fountain! and a wooden sword. CHILDREN

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ballad of The Small Plaza

Singing of children in the night silence: Light of the stream, and calm of the fountain! The children What does your heart hold, divine in its gladness? Myself A peal from the belltower, lost in the dimness. The children
101

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Light of the stream, and calm of the fountain! Why do you roam far from the small plaza? Myself I go to find Mages and find princesses. The children Who showed you the road there, the road of the poets? Myself The fount and the stream of the song of the ages. The children Do you go far from the earth and the ocean? Myself Its filled with light, is my heart of silk, and with bells that are lost, with bees and with lilies, and I will go far off,
102

You leave us singing in the small plaza. Light of the stream, and calm of the fountain! What do you hold in your hands of springtime? Myself A rose of blood, and a lily of whiteness. The children Dip them in water of the song of the ages. Light of the stream, and calm of the fountain! What does your tongue feel, scarlet and thirsting? Myself A taste of the bones of my giant forehead. The children Drink the still water of the song of the ages.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca behind those hills there, close to the starlight, to ask of the Christ there Lord, to return me my childs soul, ancient, ripened with legends, with a cap of feathers, and a sword of wood. The children

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

You leave us singing in the small plaza. Light of the stream, and calm of the fountain! Enormous pupils of the parched palm fronds hurt by the wind, they weep their dead leaves.

Ht phn th tuyn trong tp LIBRO DE POEMAS.

103

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th T Ca Khc Thm Trm

104

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

TH T CA KHC THM TRM.

Bn ting Anh dch bi Cola Franzen. Nhng bn dch khc c ghi ch.

(Ca Khc) TH TRONG NHP IU SIGUIRIYA CA GYPSY

Phong Cnh
Cnh ng -liu m ra ri khp li nh chic qut. Trn rng -liu bu tri t sng ma m u t ngi sao lnh lo. Bn b sng c lao xao mt m. Khng gian xm rm r. Rng -liu ch y ting than van. By chim n np nhp nhp chic ui di trong u m.

105

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

POEMA DEL CANTE JONDO

Cnh Tng
Cnh ng -liu m ra ri khp li nh chic qut. Trn rng -liu bu tri t sng ma m u t ngi sao lnh lo. Bn b sng c lao xao mt m. Khng gian xm rm r. Rng -Liu ch y ting than van. By chim n np nhp nhp chic ui di trong u m.

106

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

DE POEMA DE LA SIGUIRIYA GITANA

Paisaje
El campo de olivos se abre y se cierra como un abanico. Sobro el olivar hay un cielo hundido y una lluvia oscura de luceros fros. Tiembla junco y penumbra a la orilla del ro. Se riza el aire gris. Los olivos estn cargados de gritos. Una bandada de pjaros cautivos, que mueven sus largusimas colas en lo sombro.

107

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Landscape
Bd: Cola Franzen The field of olive trees opens and closes like a fan. Above the olive grove a foundering sky and a dark rain of cold stars. Bulrush and penumbra tremble at the river's edge. The gray air ripples. The olive trees are laden with cries. A flock of captive birds moving their long long tails in the gloom.

Landscape
Bd: A.S. Kline The field of olives like a fan, opens, and closes. Over the olives, deep sky, and dark rain, of frozen stars. Reeds, and blackness, tremble, by the river. Grey air shivers. The olives are full of cries. A crowd of imprisoned birds, moving long tails in shadow.

108

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

n Ghi-ta
Khi n ghi-ta bt u nghe ra a l u su git ri. p tan ly ru m ri v ly t t gia tri bnh minh. (1) Khi n thn thc t tnh. Khng ai ngn ni v hnh thanh m. Khng sao tt ting bng trm. Cho n a l th thm hoang mang nghe nh nc khc lan man nghe nh gi khc than van no nng bng qua ng tuyt lnh lng. Khng sao tt ting n thng. Khc cho cch bit mun trng xa xi. V Nam ct nng phng tri mong hoa Tr n dng i a hng. Mi tn khc nhm v thng nh chiu khng c bnh thng sm mai chim u tin cht trn cy. i, n i, hi, n ny! bit chng Tri tim thng tch vnh hng bi tay nm ngn iu n flamenco.(2)

109

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Note: (1) Cch ung ru ty Ban Nha, sau mt m ung n sng, p ly chm dt. (2)Nguyn bn cu cht: "por cinco espadas". Bn ting Anh: "by five swords.", ngha l nm li kim. the last line cinco espadas translates out to five spades and refer to the flamenco guitar playing style which uses all five fingers. five swords is a bad translation and would be better translated as five fingers. (Pit Flyz). Cu cui ca bi th, cinco espadas, dch sang nm con Bch (bi Tarot, dng bi ton) v c m ch mt kiu chi flamengo ca ghi-ta, dng c nm ngn tay khy n. Dch sang nm li kim l khng chnh nn dch l nm ngn tay.

n Ghi-ta
n ghi-ta bt u a l. V tan ly ru bnh minh. Ting ghi-ta bt u rm rt. Khng sao ngn chn ting v hnh. Khng cch no ngn m thanh y a ra nhc l bun lan man nghe nh nc khc lc nghe nh gi than van qua cnh ng tuyt lnh. Khng th no cm bt ting n. Rung m khc cho nim ly tn.
110

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Ct nng phng Nam thm a Bch Tr. L ri theo hng tn v nh nh chiu khng c sm mai v con chim u tin cht trn cy. i, ghi-ta, n i! Tri tim thng tch sut i bi nm ngn tay. (2)

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

111

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

La Guitarra
Empieza el llanto de la guitarra. Se rompen las copas de la madrugada. Empieza el llanto de la guitarra. Es intil callarla. Es imposible callarla. Llora montona como llora el agua, como llora el viento sobre la nevada. Es imposible callarla. Llora por cosas lejanas. Arena del Sur caliente que pide camelias blancas. Llora flecha sin blanco, la tarde sin maana, y el primer pjaro muerto sobre la rama. Oh guitarra! Corazn malherido por cinco espadas.

112

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The Guitar
Bd: Cola Franzen. The weeping of the guitar begins. The goblets of dawn are smashed. The weeping of the guitar begins. Useless to silence it. Impossible to silence it. It weeps monotonously as water weeps as the wind weeps over snowfields. Impossible to silence it. It weeps for distant things. Hot southern sands yearning for white camellias. Weeps arrow without target evening without morning and the first dead bird on the branch. Oh, guitar! Heart mortally wounded by five swords

The Guitar
Bd: Robert Bly The crying of the guitar starts. The goblets of the dawn break. 5 The crying of the guitar starts. No use to stop it. It is impossible to stop it. 10 It cries repeating itself as the water cries, as the wind cries over the snow. It is impossible 15 to stop it. It is crying for things far off. The warm sand of the South that asks for white camellias. 20 For the arrow with nothing to hit, the evening with no dawn coming, and the first bird of all dead on the branch. Guitar! 25 Heart wounded, gravely, by five swords.

113

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ting Khc
Ting khc theo ng vng bng t i ni qua i ni T rng -Liu mt vng cu en bng qua tri m xanh thm Aaaa Nh ko vila ting khc vang lng lng nh gi rung dy n. Aaaa (Ngi t nhng hang ng thp n du ln) Aaaa

114

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

El Grito
La elipse de un grito va de monte a monte. Desde los olivos, ser un arco iris negro sobre la noche azul. Ay! Como un arco de viola, el grito ha hecho vibrar largas cuerdas del viento. Ay! (Las gentes de las cuevas asoman sus velnes.) Ay! Xem v nghe Ting Khc La ca Federico Garcia Lorca: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvRpG-GXaAU

115

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The Cry
Bd: Cola Franzen The arc of cry travels from hill to hill. From the olive trees a black rainbow over the blue night. Ay! Like the bow of a viola the cry has set the wind's long strings to vibrating. Ay! (The people of the caves bring out their oil lamps) Ay!

The Cry
Bd: Tim Chilcott. The arc of a cry curves from hill to hill. From the olive trees, a black rainbow over the blue night. Ay! Like a viola's bow, the cry has made the long strings of the wind vibrate. Ay! (The people of the caves put their oil lamps out.) Ay!

116

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Im Lng
Con , hy lng nghe, ci im lng. Ci im lng ng y, mt im lng ct ting vang t thung lng di vo vng trn ri xung t.

Im lng
Con i. Hy nghe t ci lng im. Su trong im lng n tim nhp nh, mt im lng ng bt ng, di vang t lng n b trn cao ri ri xung t chn su .

El Silencio
Oye, hijo m o, el silencio. Es un silencio ondulado, un silencio, donde resbalan valles y ecos y que inclina las frentes hacia el suelo.

The Silence
Listen, my child, to the silence An undulating silence, a silence that turns valleys and echoes slippery, bends foreheads toward the ground.

117

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Hnh Trnh Ca Nhc iu Siguiriy

Gia n bm bm cnh en thy nng da xm ng bn sng m sng cong hnh rn m u. t thuc nh sng, tri thuc t. Nng i xao ng khng ngng vang bao m iu cha tng n y. tim nng sc lng lnh y cm con dao nhn trn tay c cu.. Siguiriya, nng mun v u? bc khng phng hng nhp su bn khon? tnh no gp bi trng? tnh p mi Chanh hng o. t thuc nh sng, tri thuc t.

118

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

El Paso de La Siguiriya
Entre mariposasnegras, va una muchacha morena junto a una blanca serpiente de niebla. Tierra de luz, cielo de tierra. Va encadenada al temblor de un ritmo que nunca llega; tiene el coraz n de plata y un punal en la diestra. Ad nde vas, Siguiriya, con un ritmo sin cabeza? Qu luna recoger tu dolor de cal y adelfa? Tierra de luz, cielo de tierra.

119

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The Passage of The Siguiriya

Bd: Cola Franzen Among black butterflies goes a dark girl beside a white serpent of mist. Earth of light sky of earth. She goes chained to the tremor of the rhythm that never arrives; she has a heart of silver, in her right and a dagger. Where are you going, Siguiriya, with a headless rhythm? What moon will gather up, your sorrow of lime and oleander? Earth of light sky of earth.

The Footsteps of La Siguiriya

Bd: A.S. Kline Through black butterflies goes a girl with dark hair joined to a white serpent of mistiness. Earth of light, Sky of Earth. She goes tied to the trembling of a rhythm that never arrives: she has a heart of silver and a dagger in her hand. Where do you go, Siguiriya with a mindless rhythm? What moon will gather up your grief of lime and oleander? Earth of light, Sky of Earth.

120

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

V Sau
n tr ngng nhn mt ni xa. n tt, vi c gi m hi vng trng vang ln khng trung ting khc xoay vng. Dy ni ngng nhn mt ni xa.

V Sau
n tr ngng nhn ni xa. n m tt. Vi ba c m hi trng (m hi thin thu) vang thnh ting khc trm t ci tri Dy ni ngng nhn xa xi.

121

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Despus de Pasar
Los ninos miran un punto lejano. Los candiles se apagan. Unas muchachas ciegas preguntan a la luna, y por el aire ascienden espirales de llanto. Las montanas miran un punto lejano.

Afterwards
The children gaze at a distant spot. The lamps are put out. Some blind girls ask questions of the moon and spirals of weeping rise through the air. The mountains gaze at a distant spot.

122

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

V Ri
Ph ch (*) thi gian xa tan. (Ch sa mc tn ti). Tri tim ngun m tiu tan. (Ch sa mc tn ti). Bnh minh hy vng v n hn tiu tan. Ch sa mc tn ti. Sa mc y sng ct. (*) laberrinto: dng ngha Latin American: dy ph, row, racket.

123

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Y Despus
Los laberintos que crea el tiempo, se desvanecen. (Slo queda el desierto.) El corazn fuente del deseo, se desvanece. (Slo queda el desierto.) La ilusin de la aurora y los besos, se desvanecen. Slo queda el desierto. Un ondulado desierto.

Ht ca khc: Th Trong Nhp iu Siguiriya ca Gypsy.

124

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(Ca khc) TH TRONG NHC IU SOLE (*)

t kh t yn tnh trong m mnh mng. (Gi t rng cy Liu, gi t dy ni lm chm) t xa thp n du gy ni su. t ca nhng b nc su. t ca cht khng nhm mt v ca tn bay. (Gi thi dc lng ng thong qua hng Bch dng)

(*) Sole l mt loi ca khc cn bn nht trong nhc Flamenco. Pht xut t min nam Ty Ban Nha. Thng thng ch cn m bi mt cy n ghi-ta.

125

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

DE POEMA DE LA SOLE
Tierra seca, tierra quieta de noches inmensas. (Viento en el olivar, viento en la sierra.) Tierra vieja del candil y la pena. Tierra de las hondas cisternas. Tierra de la muerte sin ojos y las flechas. (Viento por los caminos. Brisa en las alamedas.) Dry land, quiet land of immense nights. (Wind in the olive grove, wind in the sierra.) Old land of oil lamps and sorrow. Land of deep cisterns. Land of death without eyes and of arrows. (Wind along the roadways. Breeze in the poplars.)

126

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Dao Gm
Dao gm m sut con tim nh cy m li xung min t kh ng. ng m ti. Xin ng. Dao gm tia nng v chng t khe hm ni ci tng hoang vu ng ng m ti. Xin ng

Dagger
The dagger pierces the heart like the blade of the plow in dry mud. No. Do not stab me. No. The dagger, like a ray of sun, burns the desolate ravines. No. Do not stab me. No. (Bn dch: Ivo Zandhuis)

127

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Pual
El pual entra en el corazn, como la reja del arado en el yermo. No. No me lo claves. No. El pual, como un rayo de sol, incendia las terribles hondonadas. No. No me lo claves. No.

Dagger
The dagger goes into the heart like the blade of a plow into barren land. No. Don't run it through me. No. The dagger like a ray of the sun sets fire to terrible depths. No. Don't run it through me. No. (Bn dch: Cola Franzen).

128

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Hang ng
T hang ng vang ra ting nc n rt lu. (Mu tm trn mu ) Lng t (*) ku gi min t xa. ( Ngi lu cao v ngi b n.) Mt hn theo di ting ni p ng. (Mu en trn mu .) Hang ng vi trng run trong vng (Mu trng trn mu )

129

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cueva
De la cueva salen largos sollozos. (Lo crdeno sobre lo rojo.) El gitano evoca paises remotos. (Torres altas y hombres misteriosos.) En la voz entrecortada van sus ojos. (Lo negro sobre lo rojo.) Y la cueva encalada tiembla en el oro. (Lo blanco sobre lo rojo.)

Cave
From the cave come long sobs. (Purple over red.) The gypsy conjures up distant lands. (Tall towers and mysterious men.) His eyes follow the faltering voice. (Black over red.) The whitewashed cave trenbles in the gold. (White over red.) (Bn dch Cola Franzen.)

Ht ca khc: Th Trong Nhp iu Sole.

130

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(Ca khc) TH V MI TN

m Rc
Dc theo l ng thy l thng by nga k ln. T cnh ng no n? t rng thn thoi no? Nhn gn, ging nh thin vn hc, hay ph thy d k Merlin (1) hay nh Chng ng Thnh Gi. hay hip s Durandarte quyn r (2) hay anh hng ca Orlando furioso.(3)
(1) Merlin: l mt nhn vt thn k trong lch s lp quc ca nc Anh. ng xut hin di thi vua Arthur. V sau c xem nh mt ph thy c php thut. (2) Mt hip s ni ting di triu vua Anh. Truyn k rng ng rt yu b Belerma. Khi tht trn Roncesvalles, ng b x cht. Trc khi cht, ng nh Montesinos moi tri tim v mang v cho Belerma. A knight who fell at Roncesvalles, cousin to Montesinos. The tale says he loved Belerma, whom he served seven years, at the expiration of which time he was slain. In his last breath he told Montesinos to take his heart and give it to Belerma. (3) Orlando furioso l mt thin anh hng ca ca Ludovico Arisosto, i Li. (Trong ting , ch furioso khng vit hoa.)

131

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

DE POEMA DE LA SAETA

Procesin
Por la calleja vienen extranos unicornios, De qu campo, de qu bosque mitolgico? Ms cerca, Ya parecen astrnomos. Fantsticos Merlines y el Ecce Homo, Durandarte encantado, Orlando furioso.

Procession
Along the side street come strange unicorns. From what field, what mythological grove? Close by they resemble astronomers, Fantastic Merlins and the Ecce Homo. Enchanted Durandarte. Orlando furioso.

132

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Mi Tn
ng Christ da ngm en i qua t hoa Kn Judea n hoa Cm Chng Ty Ban Nha. Hy nhn xem, ng n! T Ty Ban Nha. Bu tri trong v ti, mt t dn dn m, v dng nc chy chm ri. ng Christ da ngm en tc qun di g m cao mt xanh lt. Hy nhn xem, ng i!

Arrow
Dark-skinned Christ passes from lily of Judea to carnation of Spain. Look here he comes! From Spain. Sky clear and dark, browned earth, and stream beds where the water barely trickles. Dark-skinned Christ, with long locks burnt high checkbones and white pupils. Look there he goes! (Bn dch: Cola Franzen)

133

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Saeta
Cristo moreno pasa de lirio de Judea a clavel de Espaa. Miradlo, por dnde viene! De Espaa. Cielo limpio y oscuro, tierra tostada, y cauces donde corre muy lenta el agua. Cristo moreno, con las guedejas quemadas, los pmulos salientes y las pupilas blancas. Miradlo, por dnde viene!

Arrow
Dark-skinned Christ changes from lily of Judea to carnation of Spain. Look where he comes from! From Spain. Sky clear and dark, scorched earth, and riverbeds where water runs ever so slowly. Dark-skinned Christ, with long, burnt hair, high cheekbones, and his pupils, white. Look where he goes! (http://www.poemadeamor.net/2005/10/federi co-garcia-lorca-saeta-poemas-en_1131.html)

134

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Trc Bui Bnh Minh

Nh tnh yu nhng cung th m. Trn m thanh xun nhng mi tn du try khiu gi trn a hoa Ly-ly. Trng li lim x ln my tm v bao ng tn m t sng mai. i, nh tnh yu nhng cung th m!

Before Dawn
But like love the archers are blind. Upon the green night, the piercing saetas leave traces of warm lily. The keel of the moon breaks through purple clouds and their quivers fill with dew. Ay, but like love the archers are blind! (http://poemhunter.com/poem/before-thedawn/)

135

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Madrugada
Pero como el amor los saeteros estn ciegos. Sobre la noche verde, las saetas dejan rastros de lirio caliente. La quilla de la luna rompe nubes moradas y las aljabas se llenan de roco. Ay, pero como el amor los saeteros estn ciegos!

Before Dawn
But like love the archers are blind. Above the green night arrows leave traces of ardent lily. The keel of the moon rips purple clouds and the quivers fill with dew. Oh, but like love the archers are blind! (Bn dch: Cola Franzen.)

Ht ca khc: Th V Mi Tn.

136

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(Ca khc) MINH HA NHC IU PETENERA

Ting Chung
T lu cao mu vng hi chung . Theo cn gi mu vng nhc chung n hoa. Trn lu cao mu vng chung ngng ting. Gi thi bi m nh bng ma m m. (*) "hace proras de plata", bn dch Cola Franzen: shapes silver prows: hnh dng mi thuyn mu xm Proras: Thnh ng "Go to devil", v phe qu s.

137

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

DE GRFICO DE LA PETENERA

Campana
En la torre amarilla, dobla una campana. Sobre el viento amarillo, se abren las campanadas. En la torre amarilla, cesa la campana. El viento con el polvo, hace proras de plata.

Bell
In the yellow tower a bell tolls. Over the yellow wind the bell-notes-flower. In the yellow tower the bell stops. With dust the wind shapes silver prows. (Bn dch: Cola Franzen.)

138

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

n Su Dy
n Ghi-ta ru chim bao a l. Ting thn thc t linh hn lc loi pht ra ca ming trn. Ri nh con nhn ln ging t hnh ngi sao li bt tng hi th phiu bng qua thng g en.

139

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Las Seis Cuedas

La guitarra hace llorar a los suenos. El sollozo de las almas perdidas se escapa por su boca redonda. Y como la tar ntula, teje una gran estrella para cazar suspiros, que flotan en su negro aljibe de madera.

The Six Strings

The guitar causes dream to weep. The sobs of lost souls escape through its round mouth. And like the tarantula it weaves a large star to trap the sighs floating in its black wooden cistern.

Ht ca khc: Minh Ha Nhc iu Petenera.

140

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(Ca khc) PHC HA NHC IU FLAMENGO

Juan Breva
Juan Breva thn hnh ln cao ting ni nh con gi. Ging ngn l lng. Khi anh ht thy kh au n sau n ci. Anh gi hn rng chanh t ph Malaga thm lng, ting ku than khn m mui bin. Nh Homer anh ht nhm mt. Ting ht cu mang ci bin m tm, nghe nh ting qu cam vt cn.

Juan Breva
Juan Breva had a giant's body and the voice of girl. Nothing like his trill. Pain itself singing behind a smile. He conjures up the lemon groves of slumbrous Mlaga, his lament carries hints of sea salt. Like Homer he sang (*) blind. His voice held something of sea with no light and an orange squeezed dry.

(Bn dch: A.S. Kline.) (*) Homer: tc gi ca hai thin anh hng ca: Lliad v Odyssey. C gi thuyt cho rng, ng khng phi l ngi vit m ch l ngi "ht" (K li theo th ht) nhng cu chuyn truyn thuyt trong dn gian.

141

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

DE VINETAS FLAMENCAS

Juan Breva
Juan Breva tena cuerpo de gigante y voz de nia. Nada como su trino. Era la misma pena cantando detrs de una sonrisa. Evoca los limonares de Mlaga la dormida, y hay en su llanto dejos de sal marina. Como Homero cant ciego. Su voz tena, algo de mar sin luz y naranja exprimida.

Juan Breva
Juan Breva had the body of a giant and the voice of a young girl. Nothing was like his warbling. It was itself pain singing behind a smile. He evoked the lemons of Mlaga, the sleepy one, and had in his weeping tones the brine of the ocean. Like Homer, he sang blind. His voice had something of sea without light, and orange squeezed dry. (Bn dch: Cola Franzen.)

142

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Qun Nhc
n knh v gng xanh. Trn sn khu m ti Parrala tip tc chuyn tr vi ci cht. Gi cht, cht khng n, gi ln na. Ngi ta nut ting khc thm. Trong nhng tm gng xanh nhng chic ui la di bt u khuy ng.

143

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Caf Cantante
Lmparas de cristal y espejos verdes. Sobre el tablado oscuro, la Parrala sostiene una conversacin con la muerte. La llama, no viene, y la vuelve a llamar. Las gentes aspiran los sollozos, Y en los espejos verdes, largas colas de seda se mueven.

Cabaret
Glass lamps and green mirrors. On the dark stage Parrala carries on a conversation with death. Calls her she doesn't come calls her again. The people swallow their sobs. And in the green mirrors long silk trains begin to stir.

144

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ba Ch
Bn tay ph php qu ln nh by chn sa m tim mt su th lng mt ngn n du. L bi X Chung. Li ko ct ngang. Bay bay hng khi nhang trm, ta ln na ging chut nm pht ph na kia ging bm hng h. L bi X Chung. Li ko ct ngang. Bit chng cho du v hnh con tim bp cht ng tnh? Con tim xn xang trong gi ni nim. L bi X Chung Li ko ct ngang.

Ba Ch
Bn tay cng thng nh mt con sa lm tt mt la th lng ca ngn n du. L bi X Chung. Li ko ct ngang. Bay ln hng khi nhang trm, ging nh hnh con chut hay con bm chp chn. L bi X Chung. Li ko ct ngang. Con tim v hnh nn cht, thy khng? Con tim phn ng trong cn gi. L bi X Chung Li ko ct ngang.

145

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Con juro
La mano crispada como una Medusa ciega el ojo doliente del candil. As de bastos. Tijeras en cruz. Sobre el humo blanco del incienso, tiene algo de topo y mariposa indecisa. As de bastos. Tijeras en cruz. Aprieta un corazn invisible, la vis? Un corazn reflejado en el viento As de bastos. Tijeras en cruz.

Exorcism
The twitching hand, like some Medusa, blinds the mournful eye of the oil lamp. Ace of clubs. Scissors crossed. Above the white smoke of the incense, it looks like something between a mole and an undecided butterfly. Ace of clubs. Crossed scissors. An unseen heart is squeezed, see it? A heart reflected in the wind. Ace of clubs. Scissors crossed.

146

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

K Nim
Khi ti cht, chn ti cng n (*) xung ct. Khi ti cht, chn ti gia hng cam v bc h. Khi ti cht, chn ti theo em ni ci xay gi i, Khi no ti cht!

Memento
When I die, bury me with my guitar under the sand. When I die, between the orange trees and the peppermint. When I die, bury me, as you wish, on a weather vane. When I die! (Bn dch ca Ivo Zandhuis)

(*) Guitar

147

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Memento
Cuando yo me muera, enterradme con mi guitarra bajo la arena. Cuando yo me muera, entre los naranjos y la hierbabuena. Cuando yo me muera, enterradme si queris en una veleta. Cuando yo me muera!

Memento
Whenever I die bury me with my guitar beneath the sand. Whenever I die among orange trees and mint. Whenever you die, bury me if you wish in a weather vane. Whenever I die! (Bn dch: Cola Franzen)

Ht ca khc: Phc Ha Nhc Flamengo.

148

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(Ca khc) BA THNH PH

Malaguena
Cht vo ri ra, qun ru. Nga ngi c i ng trm lun trn dy ghi-ta trm. Mi mui mn mi mu kinh st hng hoa Hu dc b bin Cht vo ri ra ra ri vo ci cht nh qun ru

Malaguena
Death enters, and leaves, the tavern. Black horses and sinister people travel the deep roads of the guitar. And theres a smell of salt and of female blood in the fevered tuberoses of the shore. Death enters and leaves, and leaves and enters the death of the tavern. (Bn dch: A.S.Kline)

149

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

DE TRES CIUDADES

Malaguena
La muerte entra y sale de la taberna. Pasan caballos negros y gente siniestra por los hondos caminos de la guitarra. Y hay un olor a sal y a sangre [de hembra] 1, en los nardos febriles de la marina. La muerte entra y sale y sale y entra la muerte de la taberna.

Malaguena
Death goes in and out of the tavern. Black horses and sinister people pass along the sunken roads of the guitar.

There's an odor of salt and female blood in the feverish spikenard along the shore. Death goes in and out, out and in of the tavern goes death. (Bn dch: Cola Franzen)

150

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Hng Xm Crdoba
Trong nh h n np trn ngn sao. m sp xung, Thiu n cht mt hoa thm ci trn tc. Su chim Sn Ca than khc trn hng ro. Ngi ta th di vi n ghi-ta do nhc.

151

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Barrio de Crdoba
En la casa se defienden de las estrellas. La noche se derrumba. Dentro hay una nia muerta con una rosa encarnada oculta en la cabellera. Seis ruiseores la lloran en la reja. Las gentes van suspirando con las guitarras abiertas.

Neiborhood of Cdoba
Inside the house they take shelter from the stars. Night collapses. Within, a ded girl, a crimson rose hidden in her hair. Six nightingales on the railing weep for her. The people keep sighing with gaping guitars. (Bn dch: Cola Franzen)

Ht ca khc Ba Thnh Ph.

152

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cp G Castanet (*)
Lc ca Lc cc Lc ca Cp g hnh b ku la lin hon. Cp g trong tay ku gin tay nh nhn ng khng gian m lng thm vo g g bng bng Lc ca Lc cc Bng bng ku vang B g lc cc lin hon.

Cp G
Lc cc cc. Lc cc cc. Lc cc cc. Cp g hnh con b ku gin tan. Trong bn tay nh con nhn khuy ng khng kh m ln ri chm xung m thanh g rung vang. Lc cc cc. Lc cc cc. Lc cc cc. Cp g hnh con b ku gin tan.

(*) Castanet l loi nhc kh thuc b g. Gm c hai ming g c si dy ct vo nhau. Dng tay cp chm hai ming g vo nhau. S dng trong nhc Ty Ban Nha v cc quc gia ln cn.

153

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Crtalo
Crtalo. Crtalo. Crtalo. Escarabajo sonoro. En la arana de la mano rizas el aireclido y te ahogas en tu trino de palo. Crtalo. Crtalo. Crtalo. Escarabajo sonoro.

Castanet
Castanet. Castanet. Castanet. Sonorous scarab. In the spider of the hand you crimp the warm air, and drown in your wooden trill. Castanet. Castanet. Castanet. Sonorous scarab.

154

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

m
Bch lp, n du, n lng v om m. Chm sao hnh mi nhn. Ca s vng rung ng, ri bnh minh rung rinh v kh au cht chng ln au kh Bch lp, n du n lng v om m.

155

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Noche
Cirio, candil farol y lucirnaga. La constelacin de la saeta. Ventanitas de oro tiemblan, y en la aurora se mecen cruces superpuestas. Cirio, candil, farol y lucirnaga.

156

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bc Chn
Tit trinh che bi vy m Tit trinh p m thm c n n tuyt vi Ut Kim Hng. Ci thuyn nh sng dm trng em i theo triu cng ph cao k, gia i m tin l g ngn tn thy chm sao thy tinh ln. Em i trinh tit cng knh vy m v ng sng nc m tm mai kia ra bin than thm i dng!

Bc Chn
Trinh tit trong vy m, Trinh tit trong c n, n a Ut Kim Hng k diu. Trn chuyn thuyn nh sng em i theo thy triu ph th dng cao, gia nhng mi tn hc m ni nhng v sao thy tinh. Tit trinh trong vy m, em i xung ng sng cun cun i, chy ra bin!

157

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Paso
Virgen con mirinaque, virgen de la Soledad, abierra como un immenso tulipn. En tu barco de luces vas por la alta marea de la ciudad, entre saetas turbias y estrellas de cristal. Virgen con mirinaque, t vas por el ro de la calle, hasta el mar!

Ht Th Tuyn trong tp POEMA DEL CANTE JONDO

158

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

SUITES T Khc Th

159

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

T KHC.
GHI: S dng v so snh nhng bn dch ca Jerome Rothenberg. Ngoi ra s c ghi ch.

T KHC CHO GNG SOI

Tng Trng
Christ l mi tay cm mi gng soi. Phn chiu nhiu hnh bng ng. ng hin tng tri tim qua ring n mt i, to ha!

160

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

SUITES
LA SUITE DE LOS ESPEJO

Smbolo
Cristo tena un espejo en cada mano. Multiplicaba su propio espectro. Proyectaba su corazn en las miradas negras. Creo!

Symbol
Christ, a mirror in each hand. He multiplies his shadow. He projects his heart through his black visions. I believe!

161

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gng Soi Bao La

Sng di tm gng soi mnh mng i, lm ngi sao su thm! Ly Cha ti!

El gran espejo
Vivimos bajo el gran espejo El homber es azul! Hosanna

The Giant Mirror

We live beneath a giant mirror. Man si blue! Hosanna!

162

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Phn nh
Hng Nga (Ai dm lm h hao thy ngn sng?) Khng. Hay n lng tr em thp chi? D ch mt con bm cng tt nh p. Im i!.......( C th sao!) Xem ka con om m chnh l trng!

Reflejo
Dona Luna. (Se ha roto el azogue?) No. Un muchacho ha encendido su linterna? Slo una mariposa basta para apagarte. Calla.... pero es posible! Aquella lucirnaga es la luna!

Reflection
Lady Moon. (Did someone shatter the quicksilver?) No. Has a child flicked on the lantern? Even a butterfly could blow you out. Be quiet!......(Can it really!) That glowworm is the moon!

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Tia Sng
Tt c nh cnh qut Anh ch em, m rng vng tay Thng l tm im.

Rayos
Todo es abanico. Hermando, abre los brazos. Dios es el punto.

Rays
Everything's a fan Brother, open up your arms. God is the pivot.

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bn Nhi (Chp Li)

Ch chim bit ht mi ht. Khng trung nhi li. Ngi nghe nh soi gng.

Rplica
Un pjaro tan slo canta. El aire multiplica. Omos por espejos.

Replica
Only a sing bird is singing. The air is cloning it. We hear through mirrors.

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Ci Trn
Ta i trn mt gng trong, pha l nhn sut khng dng my qua nu Hu n chng u hoa, nu Hng n ngc u qua gc Hng, cho chm r thy thinh khng thy tri sao nu cht khng bt ngi nhm mt la b ci i, chng ta ha cnh bay tri thin nga.

Mt t
Chng ta i trn tm gng khng trng bc, trong sut nh pha l khng gn my. Nu hoa Hu mc ngc, nu hoa Hng mc ngc, nu ton r cy thy c tri sao v cht khng nhm mt, chng ta s ha thnh thin nga
166

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tierra
Andamos sobre un espejo, sin azogue, sobre un cristal sin nubes. Si los lirios nacieran al revs, si las rosas nacieran al revs, si todas las races miraran las estrellas, y el muerto no cerrara sus ojos, seramos como cisnes.

Earth
We walk on an unsilvered miror, a crystal surface without clouds. If lilies would grow backwards, if roses would grow backwards, if all those roots could see the stars & the dead not close their eyes, we ould become like swans.

167

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ty Hng Ca
Sau mi gng soi mt ngi sao cht mt vng cu ngn ng say. Sau mi gng soi l trng vng vnh cu ni n nu lng im cha sc ct cnh. Gng soi l xc p ca ma xun, khp kn nh nh sng lm dn vo chiu m. Gng soi git sng nguyn mu thnh th u minh vng thnh thn xc.

168

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Capricho
Detrs de cada espejo hay una estrella muerta y un arco iris nio que duerme. Detrs de cada espejo hay una calma eterna y un nido de silencios que no han volado. El espejo es la momia del manantial, se cierra, como concha de luz, por la noche. El espejo es la madre-roco, el libro que diseca los crepsculos, el eco hecho carne.

Capriccio
Behind each mirror is a dead star & a baby rainbow sleeping. Behind each mirror is a blank forever & a nest of silences too young to fly The mirror is the wellspring become mimmy, closes like a shell of light at sunset. The mirror is the mother dew, the book of desiccated twilights, echo become flesh.

169

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Nht o Kanji
Ting chung vng t ngi cha Rng boong... boong... boong.. .boong... lan ra ng la. Sui uyn nguyn. Sui chn l. Xa xa, by chim hng hc bay qua ngn ni la ln tn.

170

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sinto
Campanillas de oro. Pagoda dragn. TiIn, tiln, sobre los arrozales. Fuente primitiva. Fuente de la verdad. A lo lejos, garzas de color rosa y el volcn marchito.

Shinto
Small golden bells. Dragon pagoda. Tinkle tinkle over the ricefields. Ptimal fountain. Fountain of the real. Far off, pink-collor herons & the spent volcano.

171

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

i Mt
Mt nhn v tn ng di. Ng t ni bng ct hai con ng. Rnh t ci trng v thng cht lun bt b dm trng chn i. c lm vn bui xun th nh ri nc mt d k n hoa. Chn tri xa kh bc qua nhm mt khng thy rt xa chn tri. Bc i d lc bc ngi vo khu rng rm t thi hoang s. Theo hoa Din V bt ng li i dn n tnh c lu cao bc vo khi bc vo bit u du b lm sao bc v. Chng trai cha vng phu th xin Tri gip cu thot th c hoa! Ny, c em Elenita ng m lng t khng nh i ngang thu tha ng ng hoang mang.

i Mt
i mt thy nhng li i v tn. Ni ng t, bng hai ng gp nhau. Cht lun lun xen ln t rung ng b mt. C lm vn nc mt ri nh hoa. ng t khp khng thy chn tri. Tht lc trong khu rng nguyn thy. Theo con ng mc nhiu hoa Din V. (Iris) bc vo lu i khng th tr ra. i, cu tr cha bit tnh yu! Xin Cha gip cu thot vng Thng Xun ! ng n cu lng t khng nh Ny c Elenita C tip tc thu c vt.

172

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Los Ojos
En los ojos se abren infinitos senderos. Son de encrucijadas de la sombra. La muerte llega siempre de esos campos ocultos. (Jardinera que troncha las flores de las lgrimas.) Las pupilas no tienen horizontes. Nos perdemos en ellas como en la selva virgen. Al castillo de irs y no volvers se va por el camino que comienza en el iris. Muchacho sin amor, Dios te libre de la yedra roja! Gurdate del viajero, Elenita que bordas corbatas!

Eyes
In our eyes the roads are endless. Two are crossroads of the shadow. Death always emerging from those secret fields. A woman working a garden teardrop loke flowers she breaks. Horizonless pupils. Virgin forests we're lost in. Castle of no return that you reach from the road that statrs in the iris. Oh boy wothout love, may God set you free from red ivy. And you, Elenita, who sit there embroidering neckties, keep clear of the traveler.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sng Th
A dong v E V. Con rn qung b tm gng ngn mnh vn, cn tri to chnh l vin .

Initium
Adn y Eva. La serpiente parti el espejo en mil pedazos, y la manzana fue la piedra

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bi Ru Ng Tm Gng
Hy ng i. ng s i mt lo lin. Hy ng i. Khng con bm no khng li ni no khng tia sng k qui no m ca kha vo gy thng tch cho em. Hy ng i. Nh tri tim anh l tm gng, em cng vy. Trong vn tnh yu anh vn i ch. Ng thoi mi nha, nhng hy thc dy khi n hn cui cng hp hi trn mi anh.

175

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Berceuse Al Espejo Dormido Berceuse for A Sleeping Mirror

Duerme. No temas la mirada errante. Duerme. Ni la mariposa, ni la palabra, ni el rayo furtivo de la cerradura te herirn. Duerme. Como mi corazn, as t, espejo mo. Jardn donde el amor me espera. Durmete sin cuidado, pero despierta, cuando se muera el ltimo beso de mis labios. Sleep. Do not fear the roaming, eye. Sleep. The butterfly the word, the furtive light in through the keyhole, will not wound you. Sleep. As my heart is, so you are, my mirror. Garden where my love is waiting. Sleep easy, but awaken when the last kiss dies against my lips.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Khng Gian
Khng gian th thai vi cu vng rng ng gng tri qua rng l.

Aire
El aire, preado de arcos iris, rompe sus espejos sobre la fronda.

Air
The air pregnant with rainbows shatters its mirrors over the grove.

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Ln Ln
Tim ti c phi tim anh? L ai m ngh thnh ging nhau? am m ti mn t u? V sao y phc thay mu? Ci ngi mun s tng giao l lng! V u sao mc trong bn? Ny anh, c phi anh trng vi ti? cn bn tay lnh mt i ca anh hay chnh ca ti, th ny? Ti thy ti gia cui ngy con tim lang bc cng by lang thang.

Ln Ln
C phi tim ti l tim anh? Ai y sao ngh ging ti? Ai cho ti mn ngun am m khng r? V u qun o li i mu? Tt c u tng giao! V u trong bn thy nhiu sao? Ny anh, anh l anh hay ti l ti? i tay lnh ny l ca ai? Ti thy ti i gia chiu t cng mt m ngi th thn qua tim.

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Confusin
Mi corazn es tu corazn? Quin me refleja pensamientos? Quin me presta esta pasin sin races? Por qu cambia mi traje de colores? Todo es encrucijada! Por qu ves en el cielo tanta estrella? Hermano, eres t o soy yo? Y estas manos tan fras son de aqul? Me veo por los ocasos, y un hormiguero de gente anda por mi corazn.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Confusion
Is my heart your heart? Who is mirroring my thoughts? Who lends me this unrooted passion? Why are my clothes changing color? Evrything is a crossroads! Why does this slime look so starry? Brothers, are you you or am I I? And these cold hands, are they his? I see myself in sunsets & a swarm of people wanders through my heart.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ni Tch Mch
Chim c ngng thin, lau mt knh ri th di. Con om m lp le di i mt v sao bng qua. Chim c sa son i cnh tip tc thin.

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Remanso
El bho deja su meditacin, limpia sus gafas y suspira. Una lucirnaga rueda monte abajo, y una estrella, se corre. El bho bate sus alas y sigue meditando.

The Pool
Horned owl stops his meditations, cleans his glasses, sighs. A firefly spins downhill & a star slides by. Old owl shakes his wings, takes up his meditations.

Ht T Khc Cho Gng Soi.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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(T Khc) M (cho dng cm v thi s c th)

Phc Ha
Con ng khng cn ai. Con ng . Con d khng nh. Con d . Ting chung ny im lng Ting chung ny.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

NOCHE ( Suite para piano y voz emocionada)

Rasgos
Aquel camino sin gente. Aquel camino. Aquel grillo sin hogar. Aquel grillo. Y esta esquila que se duerme. Esta esquila...

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Do Khc
Con b chm chm nhm mt. (m nng trong chung) y l do khc cho m.

Preludio
El buey cierra sus ojos lentamente... (Calor de establo.) Este es el preludio de la noche.

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Trong Mt Gc Tri
Ngi sao c khp mt nht nha. Ngi sao mi mun ta mu m xanh. (trong rng thng trn ni om m chp chn).

Rincn del cielo

La estrella vieja cierra sus ojos turbios. La estrella nueva quiere azular la sombra. (En los pinos del monte hay lucirnagas.)

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Ton Th
Bn tay ca gi vut ve mt khng gian vut qua vut li. Mt ngi sao khp h b mi xanh khp m khp m.

Total
La mano de la brisa acaricia la cara del espacio una vez y otra vez. Las estrellas entornan sus prpados azules una vez y otra vez.

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Ngi Sao
C mt ngi sao lng l l ngi sao khng mi mt. - u? - Ngi sao ka..... Trong vng nc ngi ng. Di ao su.

Un lucero
Hay un lucero quieto, un lucero sin prpados. -Donde? - Un lucero... En el agua dormida del estanque.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Li Mn
Con ng St. James.(*) Dy ngn h. (i, m tnh i khi con chim mi sn mu sn xong sn ri trn cnh hoa chanh.)

(*) Santiago, th ca Chili. Santiago trong thnh kinh Ty Ban Nha, ch phn kinh thnh ca thnh James.

Franja
El camino de Santiago. (*) (Oh noche de mi amor, cuando estaba la pjara pinta pinta pinta en la flor del limn.)

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Mt
Ngi sao lng mn (Mt tng hoa Mc Lan, mt tng cho hoa Hng.) Ngi sao lng mn bin thnh cung in.

La l l l la l l l . (Ht, con ch con ngi trong tp lu ti tm.)

Una
Aquella estrella romntica (para las magnolias, para las rosas). Aquella estrella romntica se ha vuelto loca. Balaln, balaln. (Canta, ranita, en tu choza de sombra.)

190

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

M
Gu m cho nhng ngi sao b trn bng: Cu nhu cn nhn. , sao con, d thng qu, chy i chi i!.

Madre
La osa mayor da teta a sus estrellas panza arriba: grue y grue. Estrellas nias, huid; estrellitas tiernas!

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Hi Tng
Ch Hng cha hin ra ang chi tr ct bt. Trng tht l kh hi in in.

Recuerdo
Doa Luna no ha salido. Est jugando a la rueda y ella misma se hace burla. Luna lunera.

Memory
Our Lady Moon still hidden, playing ring around a wheel. She makes herseff look silly, Lonny moon.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Vin M Ci
Nhng ngi sao bn cng khng cn nh sng - i bun qu, bun qu, tht l ti nghip! B vy hm trn tri xanh u m. i, bun qu. bun qu, tht l ti nghip!

193

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Hospicio
Y las estrellas pobres las que no tienen luz, qu dolor, que dolor, que pena!, estn abandonadas sobre un azul borroso. Que dolor, qu dolor, qu pena!

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sao Chi
Trn chuyn tu in nhng em b.

Cometa
En Sirio, hay nios.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sao V N

(Sao Kim)

Ngy ngy m ca thn k. m m ngca hn k m m.

Venus
Abrete, ssamo del da. Cirrate, ssamo de la noche.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Di Thp
Khng gian y tinh t phn chiu thnh m thanh. Nhng dy leo ma qui. Ting n Hc m man.

Abajo
El espacio estrellado se refleja en sonidos. Lianas espectrales. Arpa laberntica.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ni Bun Su m
Khng th soi mt vo bin. V nh s v tan nh nh sng tan v. m chim ng trn gian.

La gran tristeza
No puedes contemplarte en el mar. Tus miradas se tronchan como tallos de luz. Noche de la tierra.

Ht t khc: m

198

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(T khc) NC NG
Tng Bch (Nc ng) Bch Dng (Nc trong) Dng Liu (Nc su) Con tim (Bong bng nc)

REMANSOS
Ciprs (Agua estancada.) Chopo (Agua cristalina.) Mimbre (Agua profunda.) Corazn (Agua de pupila.)
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bin Ha
Nc ng trn khng trung di tng cy vang vng. Nc ng trong git nc di chm l sng sao. Nc ng trong ming em di n hn say m.

Variacin
El remanso del aire bajo la rama del eco. El remanso del agua bajo fronda de luceros. El remanso de tu boca bajo espesura de besos.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Vng ng
Anh thy anh trong mt em bn khon ngh n hn em ni no. i, trng i ngn Trc o. Anh thy anh trong mt em cht thng nh n mi mm hm nao. i, i ngn Trc o. Anh thy anh trong mt em thy vo ci cht ngi thm u su. i, en i ngn Trc o.

201

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Remansillo
Me mir en tus ojos pensando en tu alma. Adelfa blanca. Me mir en tus ojos pensando en tu boca. Adelfa roja.
Me mir en tus ojos. Pero estabas muerta! Adelfa negra.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Remansos Remansillo
I looked at myself in your eyes Thinking about your soul. White oleander. I looked at myself in your eyes Thinking about your mouth. Red oleander. I looked at myself in your eyes But you were dead! Black oleander. (Bn dch: Tanzan Kopra)

Little Backwater
I saw myself in yous eyes & thinking about your soul. O oleander white. I saw myself in your eyes & thinking about your mouth. O oleander red. I saw myself in your eyes but saw that you were dead O oleander black. (Bn dch: Jerome Rothenberg).

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ca Khc
m m. nh trng v bui chiu nh p e m m.. Cy gi m li nhc si m. m m. Nu em n qua li i l lng. m m. Di gc Bch Dng thy anh ang khc su. Ny, em mi i! Hn di rng Bch Dng.

204

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cancin
Ya viene la noche. Golpean rayos de luna sobre el yunque de la tarde. Ya viene la noche. Un rbol viejo se abriga con palabras de cantares. Ya viene la noche. So t vinieras a verme por los senderos del aire, Ya viene la noche. me encontraras llorando bajo los lamos grandes. Ay morena! Bajo los lamos grandes.

Song
Night here already. Monn's rays been striking evening like an anvil. Night here already. An old tree keeping warm wrapped in words of songs. Night here already. If you should come to see me walking on the air. Night already here. you'd find me crying here under the poplar trees. Ah, morena, my high brown! Under the poplar trees.

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tip Tc
Mi bi ht l vng ng tnh yu. Mi sao sng l vng ng thi gian. Mi thi gian gp g. Mi th di l vng ng tht thanh.

Sigue
Cada cancin es un remanso del amor. Cada lucero es un remanso del tiempo. Un nudo del tiempo. Y cada suspiro un remanso del grico.
206

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bn Nguyt
Trng ln khi mt nc. Tri m tht bnh yn! Trng hn h t tn dng sng gi xn xao trong khi con ch nh nhn trng tng gng soi.

Media Luna
La luna va por agua Cmo est el cielo tranquilo? Va segando lentamente el temblor viejo del ro mientras que una rana joven la toma por espejito.

Ht t khc: Nc ng.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(T khc) T KHC MU VNG

I. Trn nh ni cao c cy xanh nh mc t ny n mc t kia i. Nhn r ri rng -Liu gi mc di di xung thung lng m mc t ny n mc t kia i. Khi mc t i Khng mang cu trng, khng mang ch theo Khng mang gy chn, khng cn tnh ngha. Khi mc t n Nh chic bng ha dn mu vng ha ln vo rung ng la chn. II. Mt t mu vng. Hiu c c hiu hi mc t tr.
208

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Khng c bch nguyt, khng, khng c sao sng. Hiu c c hiu hi mc t tr. Ph n hi nho s khc v nho. Hiu c c hiu hi mc t tr. III. Hai con b trong rung la vng. B i theo iu nhp chung d vng mt nh mt chim. Sng m bui sng lm bun tri h vng vt. K t ci ngun chim khng c ch ngh li i cnh ch mc hai bn. Hai con b i quanh th di trong cnh ng Ruth (*) qua vng nc cn vng cn i i,
209

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

ung nh sng sao, v ang nhai li, hai con b trong rung la vng, nhai li phin mun. IV. Di tri hoa Cc ti i. Tng nh hm nay ti l thn thnh. H t mt trng vo gia i tay. Ti treo mt trng vo gia v tr. Thng thng ti hoa hng, ho quang. Di tri hoa cc ti i. By gi ti s xung cnh ng ny cu tr th ngy thot tay k d ang pht tin vng cho nhng cu tr. Di tri hoa cc ti i.
210

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(*) Ruth was a young Moabite widow who pledged her loyalty to her mother-in-law, Naomi. They returned to Bethlehem, Naomi's birthplace, and Ruth met Boaz, a rich land-owner who was immediately besotted. Naomi advised the young woman how to catch her man. The plan succeeded, and Ruth became the mother of Obed and the great-grandmother of King David. Ruth l mt ga ph tr dng Moabite. (Mt ging dn sng trong vng Jordan, pha ng bin Cht). B rt qu trng ngi m chng l Naomi. C hai cng tr v Bethlehem, ni sinh qun ca b Naomi. Ruth gp ng Boaz, l mt in ch giu c phi lng yu thch b ngay bui ban u. B Naomi khuyn khch Ruth nm bt c hi, gi ly ngi tnh ny. Cu chuyn thnh cng. Ruth tr thnh m ca ng Obed v l b ni ca vua David sau ny.

211

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

CUATRO BALADAS AMARILLAS

I. En lo alto de aquel monte un arbolito verde. Pastor que vas, pastor que vienes. Olivares soolientos bajan al llano caliente. Pastor que vas, pastor que vienes. Ni ovejas blancas ni perro ni cayado ni amor tienes. Pastor que vas. Como una sombra de oro, en el trigal te disuelves. Pastor que vienes. II. La tierra estaba amarilla. Orillo, orillo, pastorcillo.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca Ni luna blanca ni estrella lucan. Orillo, orillo, pastorcillo. Vendimiadora morena corta el llanto de la via. Orillo, orillo, pastorcillo. III. Dos bueyes rojos en el campo de oro. Los bueyes tienen ritmo de campanas antiguas y ojos de pjaro. Son para las maanas de niebla, y sin embargo horadan la naranja del aire, en el verano. Viejos desde que nacen no tienen amo y recuerdan las alas de sus costados. Los bueyes siempre van suspirando por los campos de Ruth en busca del vado, del eterno vado,

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

213

Th Federico Garcia Lorca borrachos de luceros a rumiarse sus llantos. Dos bueyes rojos en el campo de oro. IV. Sobre el cielo de las margaritas ando. Yo la imagino esta tarde que soy santo. Me pusieron la luna en las manos. Yo la puse otra vez en los espacios y el Seor me premi con la rosa y el halo. Sobre el cielo de las margaritas ando. Y ahora voy por este campo a librar a las nias de galanes malos y dar monedas de oro a todos los muchachos. Sobre el cielo de las margaritas ando.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

214

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Four Ballads in Yellow

I. High up on the mountain a little green tree & a shepherd who comes & a shepherd who goes. Sleepy old olive trees going down the warm valley & a shepherd who comes & a shepherd who goes. Not white ewes nor a dog not a sheephook not love for the shepherd who goes. Like a shadow in gold you dissolve in the wheat you shepherd who comes. II. The earth was yellow Catch as catch can, little shepherd man. Not a white moon, no,
215

Th Federico Garcia Lorca not a star aglow. Catch as catch can, little shepherd man. Brown grapepicking woman gets tears from the vine. Catch as catch can, little shepherd man. III. Two red bulls in one gold field. Bulls got a rhythm like oldtime bells & eyes like a bird's. Made for foggy mornings, & even so they bore through the airorange, in summer. Old from their birth they don't have no boss & think back to the wings down their sides. Two red bulls that go around sighing through fields of Ruth for a shoal to cross over, that eternal shoal, drunk on stashine, are chewing their cuds
216

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca two red bulls in one gold field, are chewing their sorrows. IV. Over a sky made of daisies I walk. I imagine today that I'm holy. That they placed the moon in my hands. That I set her back into space. And the Lord awarded me a rose & a halo. Over a sky made of daisies I walk. And now I move down this field rescuing maidens from evil suitors, giving gold coins to all young boys. Over a sky made of daisies I walk. Ht.
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(T khc)

TR V

Tr V
Ti v tm i cnh bay. Cho ti tr li ni ny tm ti Xin cho ti cht gia i Xin cho ti cht gia tri bnh minh! Hay l hm trc mt mnh Xin cho ti cht v tnh ni dy. Ti v tm i cnh bay. Cho ti tr li ni ny tm ti Xin cho ti cht gia i Xin cho ti cht gia ni ci ngun. Xin ln cui lc ln ng mt cn trng thy i dng t t

Ti tr v tm i cnh bay. Xin cho ti tr v! Xin cho ti tt th gia bnh minh! Xin cho ti qua i t hm trc! Ti tr v tm i cnh bay. Xin cho ti tr v! Xin cho ti tt th ni ngun ci. Xin cho ti cht t t nhn thy i dng.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

EL REGRESO
Yo vuelvo por mis alas. Dejadme volver! Quiero morirme siendo amanecer! Quiero morirme siendo ayer! Yo vuelvo por mis alas. Dejadme retornar! Quiero morirme siendo manantial. Quiero morirme fuera de la mar.

THE RETURN
I'm coming back for my wings. O let me come back! I want to die where it's dawn! I want to die where It's yesterday! I'm coming back for my wings. O let me get back! I want to die where it's origin. I want to die out of sight of the sea.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Xui Dng
Bc i s lm bn. Nc chy khng thy sao. Khi i s trng rng. Khi dng s mng m.

Corriente
El que camina se enturbia. El agua corriente no ve las estrellas. El que camina se olvida. Y el que se para suea.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Hy Quay V
Hy quay v ngi yu i! hy quay v. Bng vo rng tnh i em khng thy linh hn. n bn dng sui ngt. Gia mt mu xanh ti em tm thy a hng gi tn l vnh cu. Anh s tht ln: Tnh yu! Tnh yu! d vt thng lng cha lnh ln. Hy quay v, ngi yu i! hy quay v.

221

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Hacia
Vuelve, corazn!; vuelve. Por la selvas del amor no vers gentes. Tendrs claros manantiales. En lo verde hallras la rosa inmensa del siempre. Y dirs amor, amor!, sin que tu herida se cierre. Vuelve, corazn mo! Vuelve.

222

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gng Cm
Ti mun tr v thi th u ri t bc vo bng m. Sn ca i, i cng ta khng? Tt hn, hy ln ng! Ti mun tr v vi bng m ri t bc ln hoa n. Hng thm i, i cng ta khng? Tt hn, hy ln ng! Ti mun tr v cng hoa n ri t bc sang tri tim. Tnh yu i, i cng ta khng? Xin t bit. (i tri tim trng vng ca ta!)

223

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Recodo
Quiero volver a la infancia. Y de la infancia a la sombra. Te vas, ruiseor? Vete. Quiero volver a la sombra. Y de la sombra a la flor. Te vas, aroma? Vete! Quiero volver a la flor. Y de la flor a mi corazn. Te vas, amor? Adis! (A mi desierto corazn!)

224

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cho Tm Bit
Anh s cho tm bit ni ng t, ri i theo con ng dn v linh hn. khi dy hi c, trong mt thi su au. i n mt ni trong ca khc khng li bt u run ry nh mt nh sao mai.

Despedida
Me despedir en la encrucijada. Acudi a llorarme gente a quien amaba! Despertando recuerdos y horas malas llegar al huertecillo de mi cancin blanca y me echar a temblar como la estrella de la maana.

225

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

ui Theo May mn
C em i ngang qua bc chn d thng qu! o mng bay xinh xinh nh cnh bm bm l. Bn tr i, ui theo khp no ng ph th. Nu thy nng bt khc hay bun ru trm t. hy pht ln tim nng mt mu sng lp lnh dn d thi ng khc khuyn nng sng c thn.

226

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Rfaga
Pasaba mi nia. Qu bonita iba con su vestidito de muselina! Y una mariposa prendida. Sguela, muchacho, la vereda arriba! Y si ves que llora o medita, pntale el corazn con purpurina. Y dile que no llore si queda solita.

Ht t khc: Tr V.

227

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

C c
Ca khc vng do cung nhc nh..... cy bch dng b v. Khng con chim no ha tu. Ca khc vng do cung nhc nh...... Dng sng chy m u su thm di cung nhc nh trong ca khc vng...... V ti ch bui chiu trn vai nh con cu b si lang x xc di cung nhc nh ca khc vng.

228

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Solitario
Sobre el piansimo del oro.... mi chopo solo. Sin un pjaro armnico. Sobre el piansimo del oro... El ro a sus pies corre grave y hondo bajo el piansimo del oro... Y yo con la tarde sobre mis hombros como un corderito merto por el lobo bajo el piansimo del oro.

229

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ba Bi Th Ng Hong Hn
Xin gi bit, mt tri! Ta bit chc ngi l mt trng nhng ta khng ni vi ai, ny, mt tri. Ngi ln lt np sau mn che t mt trng bng bt go. Ban ngy, n ghi-ta vi nng dn, ban m, n mn--lin vi Pierrot. (*) ta cn ngi! Ny, mt tri, o tng ca ngi mun ha khu vn thnh sc mu rc r. Gi bit, mt tri! ng qun ai l k yu ngi: con c sn b gi trn lan can, v ta... hy xoay tri tim ta nh ..... con v.

(*) Pierrot: Ngh s th k 17. Chuyn trnh din bi hi. Thng nh mt trng, nhn nh k kh v l mt ngi h i vo lch s nhn loi.

230

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

De Tres Crepsculos
Adis, sol! Bien s que eres la luna, pero yo no lo dir a nadie, sol, Te ocultas detrs del teln y disfrazas tu rostro con polvos de arroz. De da, la guitars del labrador, de noche, la mandolina de Pierrot. !Qu mas da! Tu ilusin es crear el jardin multicolor. !Adis, sol! No olvides lo que te ama el caracol la viejecilla del balcn, y yo... que juego al trompo con mi... corazn.
231

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

From Three Crepuscular Poems

Adios, sun! I know for sure that you're the moon, but I won't tell nobody, sun. You sneak behind the curtain & cover your face with rice powder. By day, the farmhand's guitar, by night, Pierrot's mandolin. I should care! Your illusion, sun, is to make the garden turn Technicolor. Adios, sun ! And don't forget who loves you: the snail, the little old lady on her balcony, & me.... spinning my heart like a... top.
232

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bi Th Tnh Ngn
1. Nh sng loang trn mt nc, li em ni lan dn tim anh. Nh cnh chim tung gi, n em hn chm vo mi anh. Nh ngun nc chy i din m, mt anh thm thm m say vc dng em. 2. Anh b vy khn trong vng trn ca em. Nh Th tinh anh xoay quanh qu o chim bao. Anh lng l khng chm khng ni. Em yu i!
233

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Madrigales
I Como las ondas concntricas sobre el agua, as en mi corazn tus palabras. Como un pjaro que choca con el viento, as sobre mis labios tus besos. Como fuentes abiertas frente a la tarde, as mis ojos negros sobre tu carne. II Estoy preso en tus crculos concntricos. Como Saturno llevo los anillos de mi sueo! Y no acabo de hundirme ni me elevo.

234

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Madrigals
1. Like concentric waves on the water, your words in my heart. Like a bird that collides with the wind, your kiss on my lips. Like open fountains fronting the night, my dark eyes on your skin. 2. I'm caught in your concentric circles. Like Saturn I lug around rings from my dreams. I'm not totally sunk, I'm not rising. My love!

Madrigals
1 Like concentric ripples over the water, so in my heart your words. Like a bird that strikes against the wind, so on my lips your kisses. Like exposed fountains opposing the evening, so my dark eyes over your flesh. 2 I am caught in your circles, concentric. Like Saturn I wear the rings of my dream. I am not ruined by setting nor do I rise myself. (Bn dch: A.S.Kline).

235

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tr Chi Ca Trng
Trng trn. Trn nh bnh ci xay c gng phn chiu. Trn nh bnh xe ca gung nc quay. Trng ha thn l vng m vng sng lp lnh. Trng rng nhng cnh trng ha ra mun vng trng. T li ni ngun sui tri ni trn tri cao. Mi con sui dng sng chn vng trng nm cht. Trng bin ra lung nh sng nh dng l chi la. Trng nh ca ln gng mu v ngn mnh trn bin. Trng xuyn mn che v nh. v trng l ..? v trng l..? (Trn cao khng cn g ,ngoi vng trn nh sng pha l).

236

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Juego de lunas
La luna est redonla. Alrededor, una noria de espejos, Alrededor, una rueda de agua. La luna se ha hecho lminas como un pan de oro blanco. La luna se ha deshojado en lunas. Bandadas de fuentes vuelan por el aire. En cards fuente yace una luna difunta. La luna se hace un bastn de luz en el torrente claro. La luna, como una gran vidriera rota, case sobre el mar. La luna se va por un biombo infinito. ?Y la Lunna? ?Y la Luna? (Arriba no queda ms que un aro de cristalillos.)

A Game of Moons
Moon is round Roundabout it is a treadmill built with mirrors. Roundabout it is a wheel like a waterwheel. Moon's become a gilt leaf like a loaf of white gold. Moon sheds its petals like moons. Swarms of fountains float through the sky. In each fountain's a moon lying dead. Moon becomes a cane made of light in bright torrents. Moon like a large stained-glass window that breaks on the ocean. Moon through an infinite screen. And the moon? And the moon? (Up above nothing left but a ring of small crystals).

237

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gp Nhau
Anh v ti cha sn sng tm nhau. Anh bit ti yu nng qu i! Theo li nh. Ti thy l thng trn bn tay mnh b ng inh. Anh c thy Ti chy mu n cht? ng nhn lui, hy i chm chm, ri cu nguyn nh ti cu thnh Cayetano cho anh v ti cha sn sng gp nhau.

Encounter
Neither you nor I are ready to find one another. You.....for reasons you know. I love her so much! Follow that narrow path. In my hands I've got holes from the nails. Can't you see how I'm bleeding to death? Never glance back, continue on slowly and pray the way I do, to San Cayetano, for neither you nor I are ready to find one another. (Bn dch: Lorca and the Monk. http://www.cynthialarge.com/lorca/lorcaessay .html ).

238

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Encuentro
Ni t ni yo estamos en disposicin de encontrarnos. T... por lo que ya sabes. Yo la he querido tanto ! Sigue esa veredita. En las manos tengo los agujeros de los clavos. No ves cmo me estoy desangrando? No mires nunca atrs, vete despacio y reza como yo a San Cayetano, que ni t ni yo estamos en disposicin de encontrarnos.

Encounter
For you and I aren't ready to find each other. You ... as you well know. I loved her so much! Follow the narrowest path. I have holes in my hands from the nails. Can't you see how I'm bleeding to death? Don't look back, go slowly, and pray as I do to San Cayetano, for you and I aren't ready to find each other. (Bn dch: Ralph Ange)

239

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(T khc) TRONG VN TRNG TRI BI

Dn Nhp
Nh chic bng i chng ta tan bin Khng quay v cng chng phc sinh. ( Pero Lpez de Ayala_ Consejos morales.) Ti ri xa ngi bn thn thit nht, chn cuc du hnh n tng i ngy. Tri sm bng, trong lnh nh gng xm, hnh trang sn sng n chn l k. Nng mai lnh hng gay gay nhp sng, g tan dn huyn b vch tri m. C m my cao hnh ch vit, ch phiu bng run ry tranh my. Di ban cng ti nghe Sn Ca ht, ha iu cng ting ch m mng. Lng l bun bun sa son ln cui, cm gic lan man trn tr trong lng, nn nao bay nhy, vng tm lu luyn. Bc chn i nhn li cn phng, trn vch trng, treo thanh gm cao qu, nh chng by con rn trong bo tng. ng ni ti cm gm chin u, chng Don Carlos, phn lon qun. Ti tn knh tho gm trn vch xung, rt r ng vng nh nhnh Bch Dng. Mang gm ln ngi vi lng thm nh, mai s him nguy chin u v hnh, phi chin thng vo khu vn l. Mt trn chin hng say v hung tn, chng li k th mun thu trong ti, con rng d ca thng tnh tri gic.. Mt cm tng mnh v lo lng, chuyn xy ra cha bit l g, tt hay xu, nh nhoi hay to ln, lm xn xang cnh tng y mt ti, qua knh mt thy hnh nh huyn b. Cm gic cay nghit theo ti ln ng, tm khu vn ta nh sng m o, cht ngt cao vi mt khng gian. Triu sinh vt mt xanh l chm ch, nhn pht quang vo bc vch tng lai...Qu kh vng kh b li lm cy, ni vn trng khng ma sinh tri, ni dng sng cn kit nc ngun. Khng ai i li m n ci cht. Nhng ti m cnh bt tn hoang vu, thy nim l m s sng, lc hoang s - nhiu, nhiu na, nh nhng chic gu trn bnh xe nc quay.

240

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Chn sp bc cht nghe tim qun tht. C gia nh ang say ng im lm, c cn nh trong trng thi tnh yn. Bnh minh ln sng dn sau ngn thp, sng dn dn tng chic l trn cy. Chong ln ti b trang phc nng mai, nh ph li dt vng loang l. Hnh nh ti c qun iu g....lm sao c th nh vy, mt nhiu gi sa son k cng....Tri i, c g khng th nh? A, mt cy gy..... mt cy gy cng, c mu thm g Anh o. Ti cn t chnh trn ng du lng.. T bnh hoa trn bn, b mt a hng ln, ci bn tri ve o.Trng chu chi nhng hin nh thy tu. Gi khi hnh n. ( Ting g trng gy, o o, nh hi chung tn mn tm t) (*) Dng bn dch ca Jerome Rothenberg, In the Garden of the Lunar Grapefruits.

241

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

EN EL JARD N DE LAS TOROJAS DE LUNA

Prlogo
Asy como la sombra nuestra vida se va, que nunca m s torna nyn de nos tornard. ( Pero L pez de Ayala _ Consejos morales.) Me he despedido de los amigos que ms quiero para emprender un corto pero dramtico viaje. Sobre un espejo de plata encuentro, mucho antes de que amanezca, el maletn con la ropa que debo usar en la extraa tierra a que me dirijo. El perfume tenso y fro de la madrugada bate misteriosamente el inmenso acantilado de la noche. En la pgina tersa del cielo temblaba la inicial de una nube, y debajo de mi balcn un ruiseor y una rana levantan en el aire un aspa soolienta de sonido. Yo, tranquilo pero melanclico, hago los ltimos preparativos, embargado por sutilsimas emociones de alas y crculos concntricos. Sobre la blanca pared del cuarto, yerta y rgida como una serpiente de museo, cuelga la espada gloriosa que llev mi abuelo en la guerra contra el rey don Carlos de Borbn. Piadosamente descuelgo esa espada, vestida de herrumbre amarillenta como un lamo blanco, y me la cio recordando que tengo que sostener una gran lucha invisible antes de entrar en el jardn. Lucha exttica y violentsima con mi enemigo secular, el gigantesco dragn del Sentido Comn. Una emocin aguda y elegaca por las cosas que no han sido, buenas y malas, grandes y pequeas, invade los paisajes de mis ojos casi ocultos por unas gafas de luz violeta. Una emocin amarga que me hace caminar hacia este jardn que se estremece en las altsimas llanuras del aire. Los ojos de todas las criaturas golpean como puntos fosfricos sobre la pared del porvenir... lo de atrs se queda lleno de maleza amarilla, huertos sin frutos y ros sin agua. Jams ningn hombre cay de espaldas sobre la muerte. Pero yo, por un momento, contemplando ese paisaje abandonado e infinito, he visto planos de vida indita, mltiples y superpuestos como los cangilones de una noria sin fin. Antes de marchar siento un dolor agudo en el corazn. Mi familia duerme y toda la casa est en un reposo absoluto. El alba, revelando torres y contando una a una las hojas de los rboles, me pone un crujiente vestido de encaje lumnico.

242

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Algo se me olvida... no me cabe la menor duda... tanto tiempo preparndome! Y... Seor, qu se me olvida? Ah! Un pedazo de madera... uno bueno de cerezo sonrosado y compacto. Creo que hay que ir bien presentado... De una jarra con flores puesta sobre mi mesilla me prendo en el ojal siniestro una gran rosa plida que tiene un rostro enfurecido pero hiertico. Ya es la hora. (En las bandejas irregulares de las campanadas, vienen los kikirikis de los gallos.)

243

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

In The Garden of The Lunar Grapefruits Prologue

So like the shadow our life doth slip away That never doth return nor us restore. ( Pero Lpez de Ayala.) I have taken leave of the friends I love the most & have set out on a short dramatic journey. On a silver mirror I find , long before dawn, the satchel with the clothing I'll need foe the exotic country to which I'm heading. The tight, cold scent of sunrise beats weirdly on the huge escarpment we call night. On the sky's stretched page a cloud's initial letter trembles, & below my balcony a nightingale & frog raise up a sleepy cross of sound. I - tranquil, melancholy man - make my final preparations, impeded by those subtlest feelings aroused in me by wings & by concentric circles. On the white wall in my room, stiff & rigid like a snake in a museum, hangs the noble sword my grandfather carried in the war against Don Carlos the Pretender. With reverence I take the sword down, coated with yellow rust like a white poplar, & I gird it on me while remembering that I'll have to go through an awful invisible fight before I enter the garden. An ecstatic & ferocious fight against my secular enemy, the giant dragon Common Sense. A sharp & elegiac feeling for things that haven't been - good & evil, large & small - invades those landscapes in back of my eyes that my ultraviolet glasses have all but occulted. A bitter feeling that makes me travel toward this garden that shimmers on its sky-high prairie. The eyes of all creatures pound like phosphorescent points against under-brush, orchards without any fruit, waterless rivers. No man ever fell backwards into death. But I, absorbed for now by this abandoned & infinite landscape, catch a glimpse of life's unpublished blueprints - multiplied, superposed, like buckets in a endless waterwheel.

244

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Before taking off just now I felt a sharp pain in my heart. My family is sleeping & the whole house is in a state of absolute repose. The dawn reveals towers & one by one counts up the tree leaves. It slips a costume on me: crackling, make of spangled lace. Must be something I've forgotten ... can't be any doubt about it, so much time spent getting ready & ... lord, what is it that escapes me? Ah, a piece of wood... a piece of good old cherry wood ... rose colored, tight-grained. I believe in being well-groomed when I travel... From a jar of flowers on my nightstand, I pick out a huge pale rose & pin it to my left lapel, It has a fierce but hieratic face. ( With the scatterbrained sound of the bell's tongues come the cock-a-doodle-doos of the roosters.)

245

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cng
Em b: - Chu mun i tm cnh S T u Chim Ngi ln: (*) -B , khng c cch no c th gip em. - Ch l chuyn c dn gian huyn hoc.

Reng reng
Cn gi mt, b bc t, nm bt ng co ro. Hng thng xanh, mc trn t, bng ng ln run ry. Ti - Anh - Hn (ng chung mt ni) Reng reng

(*) Chuyn c tch u Chu. Nhng ngi ln thng l nhng ngi c ma thut.

246

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Prtico
NIO: Yo voy por las plumas del pjaro Grifn. ENANO: Hijo mo, me es imposible ayudarte en esta empresa.

Tan-tan
El aire se haba muerto. Estaba inmvil y arrugado. Los pinos yacan en tierra. Sus sombras de pie, temblando! Yo-T-l (en un solo plano) Tan-tan

247

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Phi Cnh
Sau lng i mt ti bi ca thm kn ra i li ca t mm non chng bao gi m hoa. Tng gic m, gic m v cui cng khng tht ( La chim bao s tr chm chm m hoa vng) Tt c m k d phiu lu vo bng m. Tri cy ngoi gii hn v cn gi lm quen. Khng ai bit mt ai m la v lc li, mi hng lm su au nh tu hnh vnh vin. Mi ht mm ngh n h dng ging ca cy che kn c vm tri vi thn v gc r. Khng trung hoen u m cy c mc k l. en c cnh tua ta. Mu hoa hng.
248

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Vng trng treo nght th v hoa ln cnh chen nh trng xuyn len li nh vi mc kim ngn. Sau lng i mt ti bi ca thm kn ra i li ca nhng mm non chng bao gi m hoa.

249

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Perspectiva
Dentro de mis ojos Se abre el canto hermtico De las simientes que No florecieron. Todas suean un fin Irreal y distinto. (El trigo suea enormes Flores amarillentas.) Todas suean extraas Aventuras de sombra. Frutos inaccesibles Y vientos amaestrados. Ninguna se conoce. Ciegas y desconocidas, Les duelen sus perfumes Enclaustrados por siempre. Cada semilla piensa Un rbol genealgico Que cubre todo el cielo De tallos y racimos.

Por el aire se extienden Vegetaciones increbles. Ramas negras y grandes, Rosas color ceniza.

La luna, casi ahogada De flores y ramajes, Se defiende con sus rayos Como un pulpo de plata. Dentro de mis ojos Se abre el canto hermtico De las simientes que No florecieron..

Perspective
From behind my eyes hermetic song breaks open song of the seedling that did not ever flower. Each one dreams about an unreal, quirky end. (The wheat dreams it's got enormous yellow flowers.) All of them dreaming strange adventures in the shade. Fruits hanging out of reach
250

Th Federico Garcia Lorca & domesticated winds. None of them know each other, blind & gone astray, their perfumes paining them but cloistered now forever. Each seed think up a genealogical tree covers the whole sky with its stalks & roots. The air's smeared over with improbable vegetations. Black & heavy branches. Cinder-colored roses.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The moon nearly smothered with flowers & with branches fights them off with moonbeams like an octopus in silver. From behind my eyes hermetic song breaks open song of the seedlings that that not ever flower.

251

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Khu Vn
Cha bao gi, i, cha bao gi thy! nhng lc no cng c th hin ra. Mi giy pht mi nn nao l din. Mi pht giy nghe n i li i. ni ny! ni kia! Vn-ti (*) khp chn bng ngang qua th trn hay vi chn bin su? Tt c u c th! kha m d dng. Nhng i vng nht nguyt la di chng ta V di bn chn bc ri m nhng con ng. Cho ti nhn tin mi Vn-ti c th l n my hay Thng hoa Cc hay nc tri.

The Garden
Was never born, never but could burst into life. Every moment it's deepened, restored. Every moment it opens new unheard-of pathways. Over here! over there! See my multiple bodies passing through pueblos or asleep in the ocean? Everything open! Locks to fit every key. But the sun & moon lose & delude us & under our feet the highways are tangled. Here I'll mull over all I once could have been. God or beggar, water or old marguerite.

252

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

ng n mun vn no nhng ch thy m m by gi hoa hng l qun quanh thn vn-ti. Bn dn sai lc khu vn c th tm tng giy tng pht mt nn nao mun hin thn. Cha bao gi, i, cha bao gi thy! nhng lc no cng c th hin ra.

My multiple paths barely stained now form this enormous rose encircling my body. Like an impossible map the garden of the possible every moment is deepened, restored. Was never born, never but could burst into life.

(*) Bi th ny l li ca khu vn, nn vit l Vn-ti. Tn xng , khng phi l vn ca ti.

253

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

El Jardin
Jams naci, jams! Pero pudo brotar. Cada segundo se Profundiza y renueva. ada segundo abre Nuevas sendas distintas. Por aqu! Por all! Va mi cuerpo multiplicado. Atravesando pueblos O dormido en el mar. Todo est abierto! Existen Llaves para las claves. Pero el sol y la luna Nos pierden y despistan, Y bajo nuestros pies Se enmaraan los caminos. Aqu contemplo todo Lo que pude haber sido. Dios o mendigo, Agua o vieja margarita.

254

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Mis mltiples senderos Teidos levemente Hacen una gran rosa Alrededor de mi cuerpo. Como un mapa imposible, El jardn de lo posible. Cada segundo se Profundiza y renueva. Jams naci, jams! Pero pudo brotar!

255

Th Federico Garcia Lorca lightly tinted make a vast rose round my body.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The garden
Bd: A.S. Kline. Never born, never! But could come into bud. Every second it is deepened and renewed. Every second opens new distinct pathways. This way! That way! Go my multiplying bodies. Traversing the villages or sleeping in the sea. Everything is open! There are locks for the keys. But the sun and moon lose us and mislead us. And beneath our feet the roadways are confused. Here Ill contemplate all I could have been. God or beggar, water or ancient pearl. My many pathways

Like a map, but impossible, the garden of the possible. Every second it is deepened and renewed. Never born, never! But could come into bud.

The Garden
Was never born, never but could burst into life. Every moment it's deepened, restored. Every moment it opens new unheard-of pathways. Over here! over there! See my multiple bodies passing through pueblos or asleep in the ocean? Everything open! Locks to fit every key.
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca But the sun & moon lose & delude us & under our feet the highways are tangled. Here I'll mull over all I once could have been. God or beggar, water or old marguerite. My multiple paths barely stained

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. now form this enormous rose encircling my body. Like an impossible map the garden of the possible every moment is deepened, restored. Was never born, never but could burst into life.

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Dn Dy Leo
Vi nc phun ph kn con chim cht nm im.

Pergola
A static jet of water, over which a large dead bird's asleep. Two lovers kissing in among Dream's icy crystals. "The ring, hand me the ring." "I can't see where my fingers are." "Why don't you hold me?" "No, my arms are bent & freezing on the bed" Dragging along, between the leaves, a trace of the old moon.

Tnh nhn mng hn nhau trong tri cu tinh thy.

"Nhn u, a anh nhn" "Em khng thy ngn tay u" "Sao khng m anh cht? "Khng c, tay em t di rt trn ging"

Trng xa nh trng k nim ghi thi gian gia nhng l cnh.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Glorieta
Sobre el surtidor inmvil Duerme un gran pjaro muerto. Los dos amantes se besan Entre fros cristales de sueo. "La sortija, dame la sortija!" "No s dnde estn mis dedos." "No me abrazas?" "Me dej los brazos Cruzados y fros en el lecho." Entre las hojas se arrastraba Un rayo de luna viejo.

259

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

i L
Nhng l thuyt xanh xao vi i mt m qung s nhy ma bng rng. Nh thin nga mi mt nh Trc o h hao. D c i ngang i mt ngi cng khng thy, nh m v trn sng ngang qua khng ai bit. Nh bn trong im lng mc mm mng th thm. Mt l thuyt np trong o m mang mu xm nhn thy bun thm nh thng tm bi k qua i. Nhng l thuyt khc gy ngc nhin bng bc bn ngoi bng nhng ch nhng cu ri rm. Chng ang sng m khng phi sng bng qua rng ngy ngt si m Ka, mt n ph n mng du! (Nh thin nga mi mt nh Trc o h hao.) Ph n i qua li mi hng hn ng ngn bc chn l nh, khng gian l lm cha tng thy nh cy Bch Tr n trm hoa.

Avenue
Pallid white theories with blindfoled eyes would dance through the forest. Sluggish like swans & bitter like oleander They passed by, unseen by a man's eyes, as at nightfall the rivers pass by, unreported. As in the silence, a newfangled murmuring. One of them inside her gown has a gray heavy look as of sombody dying Others shake outsized branches of disjuncted words. They don't live, are alive, pass through the ecstatic forest. A swarm of sleepwalking women! (Sluggish like swans & bitter like oleander) Women leaving an odor behind them mental, stripped of appearances, the air as indifferent as ever, like a white camellia, a hundred blossoms.
260

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Avenida
Las blancas Teoras Con los ojos vendados Danzaban por el bosque. Lentas como cisnes Y amargas como adelfas. Pasaron sin ser vistas Por los ojos del hombre, Como de noche pasan Inditos los ros, Como por el silencio Un rumor nuevo y nico. Alguna entre su tnica Lleva una gris mirada Pero de moribundo. Otras Agitan largos ramos De palabras confusas. No viven y estn vivas. Van por el bosque exttico. Enjambre de sonmbulas! (Lentas como cisnes Y amargas como adelfas.)

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca Las doncellas dejan un olor Mental ausente de miradas. El aire se queda indiferente, Camelia blanca de cien hojas.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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Ca Khc v Ngi Lm Vn Lnh Nht

iu g khin ngi khng nghi ngi ang sng rung ng trn khng trung. Nhng n sng ca ngy ngi ct ngoi gii hn. Chng n, chng i tng khi khng ai gh mt nhn. Chng n khng ai dng nh tr v ngun ci. Chng ni, chng ku gi khng ai thm lng nghe. Vn vt i thay v bt bin s tung theo mng xi trn gian. Nhng n sng ca ngy ngi ct ngoi gii hn. Mu chy mnh trong ngi chm im lng tinh khit. Nhng i mt tinh anh s dn ngi v ngun. Nhng n sng ca ngy ngi ct ngoi gii hn.
263

Th Federico Garcia Lorca iu g khin ngi khng nghi ngi ang sng rung ng trn khng trung C khu vn ha iu bi hng thm mun mng. Mi l trong vn mi m mng mi m l mi mng khc nhau.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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Cancin Del Jardinero Immvil

Lo que no sospechaste Vive y tiembla en el aire. Al tesoro del da Apenas si tocis. Van y vienen cargados Sin que los mire nadie. Vienen rotos, pero vrgenes Y hechos semilla salen. Os hablan las cosas y Vosotros no escuchis. El mundo es un surtidor Fresco, distinto y constante. Al tesoro del da Apenas si tocis. Os veda el puro silencio El torrente de la sangre. Pero dos ojos tenis Para remontar los cauces.

Al tesoro del da Apenas si tocis. Lo que no sospechaste Vive y tiembla en el aire. El jardn se enlazaba Por sus perfumes estancados. Cada hoja soaba Un sueo diferente.

Song of The Motionless Gardener

What you wouldn't have suspected lives & trembles in the air. Those treasures of the day you keep just out of reach. These come & go in truckload but no one stops to see them. Banged up they come but virgin & gone back to seed they leave. Things speak to you but no one bothers to stop & listen. The world's waterspout of objects, various 7 steady.

265

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Those treasures of the day you keep just out of reach. The hot rush of your blood drowning the virgin silence. But the two good eyes you have would draw you to the source. Those treasures of the day you keep just out of reach.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

What you wouldn't have suspected live & trembles in the air. The garden jointed together by its putrefying perfumes. Every leaf inside it dreaming a different kind of dream.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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Cu Ni
i, sung sng no hn ti sinh t v hnh tr v khu vn ny cho ngh yn vnh vin. Mi bc chn trn i mang li th gii mi. Mi bc, mi bc i c cu treo nng . S khng bao gi c con ng thng trong i ch trng trng m mui ngn ngn ng ct chia. u u c bc u i i c bc i m ra nh nan qut ng ng cn phi thai. i, khu vn uyn nguyn l tng! i, khu vn khng phi ti! L ra ti c th ng l phi l ti.

Floating Bridges
Oh what a crush of people invisible reborn make their way into this garden for their eternal rest! Every step we take on earth brings us to a new world. Every foot supporeted on a floating bridge. And I know that there is no straight road in this world only a giant labyrinth of intersecting crossroads. And steady our feet keep walking & creating -like enormous fansthese roads in embryo. Oh garden of white theories! garden of all I am not, all I could & should have been!

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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Los puente Colgantes

Oh qu gran muchedumbre, Invisible y renovada, La que viene a este jardn A descansar para siempre! Cada paso en la Tierra Nos lleva a un mundo nuevo. Cada pie lo apoyamos Sobre un puente colgante. Comprendo que no existe El camino derecho. Slo un gran laberinto De encrucijadas mltiples. Constantemente crean Nuestro pies al andar Inmensos abanicos De senderos en germen. Oh jardn de las blancas Teoras! Oh jardn De lo que no soy pero Pude y deb haber sido!

268

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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Floating Bridges
Oh what a crush of People Invisible, reborn Make their way to into this garden For their eternal rest Every step we take on earth Brings us to a new world Every foot supported On a floating bridge I know there is no straight road No straight road in this world Only a giant labyrinth Of intersecting crossroads And steadily our feet Keep walking and creating Like enormous fans These roads in embryo Oh garden of white Oh garden of all I am not All I could And should have been

Floating Bridges
Oh what a crush of people invisible reborn make their way into this garden for their eternal rest! Every step we take on earth brings us to a new world. Every foot supported on a floating bridge. And I know that there is no straight road in this world only a giant labyrinth of intersecting crossroads. And steady our feet keep walking & creating -like enormous fansthese roads in embryo. Oh garden of white theories! garden of all I am not, all I could & should have been!

269

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Thn D Trng
Trn a hoa Thy Tin bt t Thn D trng ng say. Sng ln bng pha l lm vng trn trinh bch Mt tri, con rng la thun thc lim i tay ph n ca thn D. Trn dng sng tnh i n thn nc cht tri. Tim thn D theo gi kh t ging bo xa. Vi nc trn t l ngun sui chia by dng xanh nh thy tinh.

270

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

El Stiro Blanco
Sobre narcisos inmortales Dorma el stiro blanco. Enormes cuernos de cristal Virginizaban su ancha frente. El sol como un dragn vencido Lama sus largas manos de doncella. Flotando sobre el ro del amor Todas las ninfas muerta desfilaban. El corazn del stiro en el viento Se oreaba de viejas tempestades. La siringa en el suelo era una fuente Con siete azules caos cristalinos.

271

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ghi Li Trong Khu Vn

Nhng ngi bo th ng trinh gi hoi gi mi i tnh oan trang, snh i tnh t vi chng l cy lng l hng hng trin min. Nhn thng chng dm lic nghing hai chng cng bc lng yn khng li, ai em tnh li n ci nh bt lng v v vi nt cong. Di cnh Ut Kim Hng bng xm mu sng c hnh dong, ph by / mt ln sng bc m say t hnh lang nh n lay lt v. Mi hng lang bt trn tr tng cn khng bit hng m no bc cao nh bc ln cao nhng hoa nguyn vn ngt ngo hng trinh. Xuyn cnh cam nh rp rnh i, tia thm thm nh hnh lnh t! V chng n ng vng v thanh gm gy li th chia i.

272

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Estampas del Jardn

Las antiguas doncellas Que no fueron amadas Vienen con sus galanes Entre las quietas ramas. Los galanes sin ojos Y ellas sin palabras Se adornan con sonrisas Como plumas rizadas. Desfilan bajo grises Tulipanes de escarcha En un blanco delirio De luces enclaustradas. La ciega muchedumbre De los perfumes vaga Con los pies apoyados Sobre flores intactas. Oh luz honda y oblicua De las yertas naranjas! Los galanes tropiezan Con sus rotas espadas.

Engravings of The Garden

Those antique virgins still unloved, walk with their loverboys through silent leaves. The boys, how eyeless & how wordless they, who cover themselves with smiles like curlicues of feathers. Strutting beneath the gray & frosty tulips a white delirium of cloistered lights. Blind crowd- the perfumes drifting past their feet propped up on uncut flowers. Oh deep & crooked light from oranges gone numb! And loverboy who stumble over their broken swords.

273

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cu Vng Trng
Cu vng t mt trng en mc qua bin yn tnh. n con cha ra i ang tm ti. "Cha i, xin ng trn chng con, ch cht, em t ang hp hi." Trn mt ti, chng treo lng l. G trng bt u vang ting gy. i dng ha bt ln ci ting ci cui cng bng ting sng. "Cha i, xin ng trn chng con!"... V ti tht tht ln ho thnh cy Cam Tng.

Cu vng phn chiu t mt trng

Lu cao. Nc rng.
Nng tin: Hy mang ln tay chic nhn ci ng ni anh eo sut i. Trm tay ang i trong lng t kh au v khng c lun hi. Cy Cam Tng
274

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ti: Ta s cm gic gia bn tay mt bng hoa ln n trn ngn du hiu tng hnh cho chic nhn i, chic nhn ta khng mun eo. Lu cao. Nc rng.

275

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Arco de lunas
Un arco de lunas negras Sobre el mar sin movimiento. Mis hijos que no han nacido Me persiguen. "Padre, no corras, espera! El ms chico viene muerto." Se cuelgan de mis pupilas. Canta el gallo. El mar hecho piedra re Su ltima risa de olas. "Padre, no corras!" Mis gritos Se hacen nardos. .

Altas torres. Largos ros.

Hada: Toma el anillo de bodas De tus abuelos. Cien manos bajo la tierra Lo echarn de menos.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Yo: Voy a sentir en mis manos Una inmensa flor de dedos, Y el smbolo del anillo no lo quiero! Altas torres. Largos ros.

277

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ca Khc Ngn Cho Tr Cha Sinh

Ting khc m u t a hoa em b li ti theo dng nc. Ni bi thm khi ti hiu ra s nh mt lo gi ho ht ko l hi th v nc mt nh ko sau lng mt ci ui. Nu tri sinh ra khng c tay Lm sao ti y ca nng ngy? Nhng k cho ghe lo phc v m tr ngi yn sn thuyn ny. Ti ang say gic ng an bnh ai n nh x rch gic m? M ti t lu gi ci tc thay mu trng bc ph. Ting khc m u t a hoa em b li ti theo dng nc.

278

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cancincilla Del Nino Que No Naci

Me habis dejado sobre una flor De oscuros sollozos de agua! El llanto que aprend Se pondr viejecito Arrastrando su cola De suspiros y lgrimas. Sin brazos, cmo empujo La puerta de la Luz? Sirvieron a otro nio De remos en su barca. Yo dorma tranquilo. Quin taladr mi sueo? Mi madre tiene ya La cabellera blanca. Me habis dejado sobre una flor De oscuros sollozos de agua!

279

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Little Song of The Unborn Child

On a flower of dark sobs & waters you left me The lament that I learned will be a shiveled old man dragging sighs & tears behind it like a tail. If I have no arms, how will I force daylight's door? Those oars served another child on his boat. I was sleeping in peace. Who ripped into my dream? My mother has long had a head of white hair. On a flower of dark sobs & waters you left me

280

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Mi Tinh Khi
i, mi hng lnh bit my! Ka, D Lan Hng ! Ka, nng hu n t Tng Bch trng. Bng i v mc mc trn da ln bng vng. (Hai con ng. Mt chuyn tu rt di mt dy ngn h.) M a con cht yu ang rng mnh in cung nh Thiu Thn. i, mi hng lnh bit my! Ka, D Lan Hng! (*) Ch caminos chuyn l con ng th st hn l highway.

281

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Olor blanco
Oh qu fro perfume De jacintos! Por los cipreses blancos Viene una doncella. Trae sus senos cortados En un plato de oro. (Dos caminos. Su largusima cola Y la Va Lctea.) Madre De los nios muertos, Tiembla con el delirio De los gusanos de luz. Oh qu fro perfume De jacintos!

282

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

White Smell
Oh what cold perfumes what hyacinths! What maiden who comes through white cypresses. Carries her two severed breasts on a platter of gold. Two highways (*) Her very long train & the milky way) Mother of stillborns who shudders with the frenzy of light-worms. Oh what cold perfumes what hyacinths!

283

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cn Ct
Trn cn ct mnh mng chi nh sng c Ti thy mnh tht lc khng hng tri, khng thy ng i. Bc phng l ci cht tt lm ht nh sao. Bu tri nh m thuyn dng cao ri ri xung. Qua i dng nh sng n u? v gp ai? nh phn chiu nh khc t trng n sau my. A, cn y mt cy gy bng g cng trong tay a ta v nh c ni chim xa cn bay. Khu vn s theo sau dn tng ro n gn mp ra ca im lng nh mc cn.

284

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Duna
Sobre la extensa duna De la luz antiqusima Me encuentro despistado Sin cielo ni camino. El Norte moribundo Apag sus estrellas. Los cielos naufragados Se ondulaban sin prisa. Por el mar de la luz dnde voy? A quin busco? Aqu gime el reflejo De las lunas veladas. Ay, mi fresco pedazo De madera compacta, Vulveme a mi balcn Y a mis pjaros vivos! El jardn seguir Moviendo sus arriates Sobre la ruda espalda Del silencio encallado.

Dune
Atop that vast dune - most ancient light I find myself lost with no sky, no road. The North near to death had switched off its stars. The skies were shipwrecked, slowly rising & fallind. Through a sea made of light I go where? I seek whom? A reflection that cries here - of moons hidden by veils. May the cool piece of tight-grained wood in my hand take me back yo my balcony my still living birds. Then the garden will follow, will be moving its borders on the coarse-grained shoulders of a silence run aground.

285

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bnh Minh v Chung Rung

(Bn ngoi khu vn) Mt tri mc ra trm sng nhn nng khng trung ang ph bng en. Con b cng a i sng nhn nng khng gian ng gia cnh ng. Cn ma gy lng ngon mc ri xung quanh thp c lu chung. gi cn gi, gi v, gi thi ui n b v tn cui ng. Trong dng sng m thm di nc c bt u m trn chin tranh. Linh hn ti, bn nam bn n, xin im lm, hy lm thinh!

286

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Amanecer y repique
El sol con sus cien cuernos levanta el cielo bajo. El mismo gesto repiten los toros en la llanura. La pedrea estremecida de los viejos campanarios despierta y pone en camino al gran rebao del viento. En el ro ahora comienzan las batallas de los peces. Alma ma, nio y nia, silencio!!

Wake Up/Ring Out

Sun with his hundred horns lifts the downed sky. Same motion repeated by the bulls on the prairies. Spectacular rain of stones around the old bell towers arouses the wind, drives its vast herd down the road. In the river the wars of the fish are begining. My sould, boy & girl, be silent, silent!

287

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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CANCIONES 1921-1924

288

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CA KHC.

Bi Ca Hc Tr
Th By. Cng vn. Ch Nht. Ngy m u. Mu xm. Th By. Vm tri xanh. Gi mt. Ch Nht. Bin v bi ct. ng . Th By. Manh nha run ry. Ch Nht. (Tnh yu n, chn vng)

289

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

CANCIONES.

La Cancin del Colegial

Sbado. Puerta de jardn. Domingo. Da gris. Gris. Sbado. Arcos azules. Brisa. Domingo. Mar con orillas, Metas. Sbado. Semilla estremecida. Domingo. (Nuestro amor se pone amarillo.)

Schoolboy's Song
Saturday. Garden gate. Sunday. Gray day. Gray. Saturday. Blue archway. Breeze. Sunday. Sea and seashore. Goals. Saturday. Seed quivering. Sunday. (Our love sets. yellow) (Bn dch: Alan S. Trueblood).

290

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Friso

TIERRA Las nina de la brisa van con largas colas.

CIELO Los mancebos del aire saltan sobre la luna.

Tr Ngch
T Gi thanh n ln vo vy pht ph. TRI Khng kh thanh xun trn ln cung trng.

291

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Sn
Rng thng cao, ngn thng cao Bn b cu vt cnh vo khng trung. Chim v t chn mt mng. Mang theo thng tch trong tng bng chim. Rng thng thp, ngn thng chm B cu di t nm im.

Th Sn
Rng thng cao! Bn b cu bay cao. Bn chim bay xa ri tr li. Thng tch trong bng chim. Rng thng thp! Di t bn b cu ri.

Cazador
Alto pinar! Cuatro palomas por el aire van. Cuatro palomas vuelan y tornan. Llevan heridas sus cuatro sombras. Bajo pinar! Cuatro palomas en la tierra estn

Hunter
Tall pine grove! Four doves ply the air. Four doves fly off anf return. There are wounds in their four shadows. Low pine grove! Four doves are on the ground. (Bn dch: Alan S. Trueblood).

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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T NHNG BI HT THIU NHI

Ca Khc Trung Quc u Chu

Thiu n cm qut i ln cu bng qua dng sng. Nhng ngi n ng mc o khoc di theo di chic cu khng c ch vn tay. Thiu n cm qut mc vy ren i tm ngi chng. Nhng n ng u ci v nhng ph n cao ro tc vng ni ting ty phng. Nhng con d ang gy hng ty. (Thiu n bng qua sn c) m d gy di lm hoa. (Nhng n ng i v hng bc).
293

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ca Khc Trung Quc u Chu

Thiu n cm qut qua cu dng sng vn chy mt mu nc sng. o ty di m n ng nhn theo thiu n sang sng qua cu trng trnh khng ch vn no. Thiu n cm qut tm chng Vy ren trang im m hng v u. m n ng t lu / snh i ph n chn cao tc vng chuyn tr ngn ng ty bang. Nhng con d gy rn rng ty phng. (Nng qua sn c tm thng). By d vn gy bnh thng di hoa. (m n ng b i xa / bc phng qun k va qua on cu).

294

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Cancin China En Europa

La seorita del abanico, va por el puente del fresco ro. Los caballeros con sus levitas, miran el puente sin barandillas. La seorita del abanico y los volantes busca marido. Los caballeros estn casados, con altas rubias de idioma blanco. Los grillos cantan por el Oeste. (La seorita, va por lo verde). Los grillos cantan bajo las flores. (Los caballeros, van por el Norte).
295

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Chinese Song In Europe

The seorita with the fan is crossing the bridge of the cool stream. The gentlemen with their coats are watching the bridge with no handrails. The seorita with the fan and flounced skirt is seeking a husband. The gentlemen are all married to tall blonde women who speak the language of the Western man. The crickets are singing in the West. (The seorita walks through the grass.) The crickets are singing beneath the flowers. (Bn dch: Jennifer Capaldo)

Song of China In Europe

The young lady with the fan is taking the bridge across the river. The gentlemen in frock coats are looking at the bridge with no railings. The young lady with the fan and the flounces seeks a husband. The gentlemen are married to tall blondes of white speech. Westward crickets chirp. (The young lady walks the green). Crickets chirp under flowers. (Northward the gentlemen go).
296 (Bn dch: Alan S. Trueblood).

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tiu Khc Cho V iu Sevillian (*)

Tng sng trong khu rng cam. n ong rui sn mt. Mt ngt ni no? Trong a hoa xanh, Isabel. Trong ma Hng Tho n hoa. (Chic gh nh m vng cho ngi Ma Rc. Chic gh lp lnh cho c v.) Tng sng trong khu rng Cam.
(*) Sevilliana l mt iu v dn tc theo nhc flamengo.

297

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cancioncilla Sevillana
A Solita Salinas Amaneca en el naranjel. Abejitas de oro buscaban la miel. Dnde estar la miel? Est en la flor azul, Isabel. En la flor, del romero aquel. (Sillita de oro para el moro. Silla de oropel para su mujer.) Amaneca en el naranjel.

298

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

V c
C ngi tng ti v c ht. Bi ca bn trong l i dng quyn r du hnh (*) Tri tim ti dng cao nc bin n c nh bi quanh khi o m khi lng lnh C ngi tng ti v c ht.

C Teresita Guilln do dng cm bi nhc su nt.

ng thn ln khc. B thn ln khc. ng b thn ln ym ngc trng H i ri nhn ci mt ri. i chic nhn t hon! i chic nhn xm ch!

299

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tri cao v nhn tnh th chim trong khinh kh cu. Mt tri, ch huy trng, khoc o ngn sa-tanh. Trng h tht gi nua! i thn ln tht gi! i, h ang than khc Ka, h ang than khc! (*) mapa: anything excellent and prominent in its line.

300

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Caracola
A Natalia Jimnez Me han trado una caracola. Dentro le canta un mar de mapa. Mi corazn se llena de agua con pececillos de sombra y plata. Me han trado una caracola.

A mademoiselle Teresita Guilln tocando un piano de siete notas

El lagarto est llorando. La lagarta est llorando. El lagarto y la lagarta con delantaritos blancos. Han perdido sin querer su anillo de desposados. Ay, su anillito de plomo., ay, su anillito plomado! Un cielo grande y sin gente monta en su globo a los pjaros.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca El sol, capitn redondo, lleva un chaleco de raso. Miradlos qu viejos son! Qu viejos son los lagartos! Ay cmo lloran y lloran. ay! ay!, cmo estn llorando!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

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Phong Cnh
Bui chiu lm ln tr lnh. Qua ca s sng m tr em nhn cy l vng ha thnh chim bay. Bui chiu ko di n b sng. Tri to ng mu hng lm rng mnh mi ngi

Paisaje
La tarde equivocada se visiti de fro. Detrs de los cristales turbios, todos los ninos, ven convertirse en pjaros un rbol amarillo. La tarde est tendida a lo largo del ro. Y un rubor de manzana tiembla en los tejadillos.

303

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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Bi Ca Ng Ngn
M i, con c ha thnh tin. (*) Con , con s v cng lnh. M i, Con c ha thnh nc. Con , Con s lnh thu xng. M i, khu con vo nm gi. M s lm ngay by gi! (*) Plata cng c ngha l tin.

304

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Cancin tonta
Mam, yo quiero ser de plata. Hijo, tendrs mucho fro. Mam. Yo quiero ser de agua. Hijo, tendrs mucho fro. Mam. Brdarme en tu almohada. Eso s! Ahora mismo!

Silly Song
Mommy. I want to be all silver. Son, you'll be awfully cold. Mommy. Iwant to be all water. Son. you'll be awfully cold. Mommy. Sew me onto your cushion. That I will! This very moment!

Ht T Nhng Bi ht Thiu Nhi.

305

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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BA CHN DUNG BNG TI

Verlaine
Bi ca cha bao gi ht trn u li ng say. Bi ht cha bao gi ca. Trn cnh Kim Ngn om m nhp nhy trng a mt nc nhng t nh trng. L lc ti m mng bi ca cha bao gi ht. Bi ht tro qua mi ni tri vin x. Bi ca vui qua gi khi ngh chn bng mt Bi ht lm ngi sao sng li gia tri cao bt tn nng ngy (*) Paul Marie Verlaine l thi s Php (1844-1896) nm trong phong tro th Tng Trng.

306

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TRES RETRATOS CON SOMBRA

Verlaine
La cancin, que nunca dir, se ha dormido en mis labios. La cancin, que nunca dir. Sobre las madreselvas haba una luvirnaga, y la luna picaba con un rayo en el agua. Entonces yo son, la cancin, que nunca dir. Cancin llena de labios y de cauces lejanos. Cancin llena de horas perdidas en la sombra. Cancin de estrella viva sobre un perpetuo da.

Verlaine
The song I'll never speak, on the tip of my tongue fell asleep. The song I'll never speak. On the honeysuckle a firefly blinked and the moon was pricking the water with a beam. It was then I dreamed the song I'll never speak. Song filled with lips, flowing from far away. Song filled with hours whiled away in the shade. Song of stars alive in perpetual daytime skies. (Bn dch: Alan S. Trueblood) Nghe "Verlaine" nhc Toni Germani. Trnh by bi Toni Germani Quartet: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mA4FijDBqhM

307

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bacchus (*)
Tin n ngy th cn nguyn vn. Cy Sung m cnh tay n ti. Bng cy linh ng hnh con bo v ui bng ti dng a tnh. Mt trng soi m tng con ch, m sai m li m bt u. Hm qua, ngy mai, en hay lc rnh rp vng hoa Qu Nguyt eo. Khng ai yu ngi nh ta s c th no chinh phc tim ta? Cy Sung tht to ri bc n kinh hong ti s hi bit bao. (*) Bacchus: l thn ru trong thn thoi ca ngi La m

308

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Baco
Verde rumor intacto. La higuera me tiende sus brazos. Como una pantera, su sombra, acecha mi lrica sombra. La luna cuenta los perros. Se equivoca y empieza de nuevo. Ayer, maana. negro y verde, rondas mi cerco de laureles. Quin te querra como yo, si me cambiaras el corazn? ... Y la higuera me grita y avanza terrible y multiplicada.

Bacchus
Green sound intact. The fig tree's arms open to me. Its shadow, like a panther, stalks my lyrical shadow. The moon is counting dogs. She slips and starts over. Yesterday, tomorrow, black and green, you haunt my laurel wreath. No one would love you like me if you'd only change my heart! ...And the fig tree shouts and comes at me in frightfull proliferation.

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Juan Ramn Jimnez

Gia mu trng mnh mng v hn, tuyt trng, hoa Cam Tng trng, rung mui trng anh ta hoang ng trong tng tng lc loi. Khi mu trng di ng trn tm thm m ru kt bng lng chim Cu. Nhm mt, lng im, hu nh bt ng anh ta kh su theo ui chim bao nhng trong thm tm ni nim rung cm. Gia mu trng mnh mng v hn i, vt thng no tinh khit di lu cn ghi li khi gi t hoang tng. Gia mu trng mnh mng v hn Tuyt trng., Hoa Cam Tng trng., Rung mui trng.

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Juan Ramn Jimnez

En el blanco infinito, nieve, nardo y salina, perdi su fantasa. El color blanco, anda, sobre una muda alfombra de plumas de paloma. Sin ojos ni ademn inmvil sufre un sueo. Pero tiembla por dentro. En el blanco infinito, que pura y larga herida dej su fantasa! En el blanco infinito. Nieve. Nardo. Salina.

Juan Ra mn Jimnez
In the infinity of white snow, spikenard, and salt flat, his fantasy went astray. The color white moves over a soundless carpet of pigeon feathers. Eyeless, no gesture, stock-still he is haunted by adream. But inwardly he quivers. In the infinity of white what a clean, long gash his fantasy left! In the infinity of white. Snow. Spikenard. Salt flat.

311

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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Thn V N
Trinh n t nay qua i quanh ging bao bc bc mn che, trn tri a hoa cn gi thong nh sng v thng huyn hoc ln. Trn gian nng b i xa li cnh hoa mm vi bng, di mt trng theo qua ca s con ng v tn dn mai sau. Trinh n t nay qua i mang theo tnh i khc thm tm. vi lim che dn dng bt sng mi tc di nh vnh bit thi.

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Venus
La joven muerta en la concha de la cama, desnuda de flor y brisa surga en la luz perenne. Quedaba el mundo, lirio de algodn y sombra, asomado a los cristales, viendo el trnsito infinito. La joven muerta, surcaba el amor por dentro. Entre la espuma de las sbanas se perda su cabellera.

Venus
The dead maiden in the shell of the bed strpped of blossom and breeze, ascended in unending light. The world was left behind, a lily of cotton and shadow, watching through the panes the infinite passage. The dead maiden plied love from within. In the foam of the sheets her long hair disappeared.

313

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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Debussy (1)
Bng ti lt nh trong lng l trn dng nc tri xui. Np trong chic bng mt by ch ging nh chm sao ri. Chic bng iu khin xc thn ti phn chiu t tri yn tnh Ri chic bng bay nhy nh mui tm khng l. C trm con d (2) mun ha vng chp nhy b lau sy. Gia ngc ti ta ra nh sng, phn chiu nc di mng. (1) Claude Debussy: Nhc s ngi Php (08, 1862-03, 1918). Mt trong nhng nhc s dn u nhc n Tng. (2) C l con om m mi ng.

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Debussy
Mi sombra va silenciosa por el agua de la acequia. Por mi sombra estn las ranas privadas de las estrellas. La sombra manda a mi cuerpo reflejos de cosas quietas. Mi sombra va como inmenso cnife color violeta. Cien grillos quieren dorar la luz de la caavera. Una luz nace en mi pecho, reflejado, de la acequia.

Debussy
My shadow glides in silence over the watercourse. On account of my shadow the frogs are deprived of stars, The shadow sends my body reflections of quiet things. My shadow moves like a huge violet-colored mosquito. A hundred crickets are trying to gild the glow of the reeds. A glow arises in my breast, the one mirrored in the water.

Ht Ba Chn Dung Bng Ti

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TR CHI

Ca Khc Cho Cy Sy
Cy sy r ro lay ng ra ro lay ng, lay ng r ro run run hiu qunh t gi thong hm qua C em, th di c ui bt hi th nhng lun lun khng kp tr khong mt pht thi. , mt tri! , mt trng, mt trng! mt pht tr su mi a hoa bun ri rm bc chn em. C thy cy lay ng a lui a ti, a ti a lui, rng l hoa v ti t gi thong hm qua.

316

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

JUEGOS

rbol de cancin
Caa de voz y gesto, una vez y otra vez tiembla sin esperanza en el aire de ayer. La nia suspirando lo quera coger; pero llegaba siempre un minuto despus. Ay sol! Ay luna, luna! Un minuto despus. Sesenta flores grises enredaban sus pies. Mira cmo se mece una vez y otra vez, virgen de flor y rama, en el aire de ayer.

Tree of Song
A reed in voice and gesture again and again quivers forlorn in yesterday's breeze. The girl, with a sigh, was trying to catch it but she always arrived a minute too late. O sun! Moon, O moon! A minute too late. Sixty gray flowers trammeled her feet. She sees it swaying again and again, innocent of flower and branch, in yesterday's breeze.

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Cam v Chanh
i, c em tht tnh! Tri chanh v tri cam. Ti nghip c em i, mt ti nht! Tri chanh. (Mt tri sng th no) Tri cam. (Thy trn bnh s ng nc)

318

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Naranja y limn.
Ay de la nia del mal amor! Limn y naranja. Ay de la nia, de la nia blanca! Limn. (Cmo brillaba el sol.) Naranja. (En las chinas del agua.)

319

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Con ng Ngi Cm
Sau ca knh ng kn by thiu n a vui ct ting ci (Trn dng cm trng vng, con nhn ri chi) Tr chuyn vi tnh nhn thiu n lc bm tc. (Th gii ni cm dng qut, tay v khn). Tnh nhn chong o en p tr ra du bng hoa v cnh bay.

320

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La calle de Los Mudos

Detrs de las inmviles vidrieras las muchachas juegan con sus risas. (En los pianos vacos, araas titiriteras.) Las muchachas hablan de sus novios agitando sus trenzas apretadas. (Mundo del abanico, el pauelo y la mano.) Los galanes replican haciendo alas y flores con sus capas negras.

321

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CA KHC TRNG

Trng Ln
Khi trng va nh ln ting chung nh dn con ng mn nhn thy nhng khng th i. Khi trng va nh ln bin trn ngp t tri tim nh hoang o trong ci v thng. Khng ai n cam di nh trng rm. Ch n tri cy xanh ti v p lnh. Khi trng va nh ln ging trm mt trn khc, trn nh ng tin km nm trong ti th than.

322

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

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CANCIONES DE LUNA

La Luna Asoma
Cuando sale la luna se pierden las campanas y aparecen las sendas impenetrables. Cuando sale la luna, el mar cubre la tierra y el corazn se siente isla en el infinito. Nadie come naranjas bajo la luna llena. Es preciso comer fruta verde y helada. Cuando sale la luna de cien rostros iguales, la moneda de plata solloza en el bolsillo.

The Moon Appears

At the rise of the moon bells fade out and impassable paths appear. At the rise of the moon the sea overspreads the land and the heart feels like an island in the infinite. No one eat oranges in the full moon light. Fruit must be eaten green and ice-cold. At the rise of the moon with its hundred faces alike, silver coins sob away in pockets.

Hai Trng Mt Bui Chiu

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Vng trng hp hi cht dn ri sang xun s v trn ti sinh. Khi hng cy l chuyn mnh Bch Dng ph pht n tnh gi Nam. Khi tim ta lng m mng n nghe ma gi bn khon th di. Khi nh thay lp mi dy nhn xa nh nc m y c tranh. Vng trng hp hi cht nhanh ch sang xun s ha thnh vng trng. Bui chiu ang ct ting ca ht bi ru ng i ru cam. C em nh ct ting vang: a cu l mt qu cam trn trn. Vng trng bt khc ti hn: Trng y mun trn trn nh cam. B Trng, ng kh nhc tm cho d b i bn thn hng. Thng thay s mnh phiu bng d lm chanh nh cng khng th no! (*) Bercues: bi ht ru con. Hoc bi ca cu trc nhp 6/8.

Hai Trng Mt Bui Chiu

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Mt trng ang cht, ang cht, ri sang xun s hi sinh. Khi rng Bch Dng pht ph n ngn gi nam n. Khi con tim chng ta n cho ma gi r ro. Khi dy nc nh chp ln mi m tranh. Mt trng ang cht, ang cht, ri sang xun s hi sinh. Bui chiu ca ht bi ru cho qu cam (*) C em nh ht rng: Tri t l mt qu cam. Mt trng nh l khc: Ta mun ha thn thnh qu cam. B i! Khng th no, cho d trng chuyn thnh hng . Khng th c d ch thnh qu chanh i! tht l ti nghip.

Dos Lunas de Tarde

325

Th Federico Garcia Lorca La luna est muerta, muerta; pero resucita en la primavera. Cuando en la frente de los chopos se rice el viento del Sur. Cuando den nuestros corazones su cosecha de suspiros. Cuando se pongan los tejados sus sombreritos de yerba. La luna est muerta, muerta; pero resucita en la primavera. A Isabelita, mi hermana La tarde canta una berceuse a las naranjas. Mi hermanita canta: La tierra es una naranja. La luna llorando dice: Yo quiero ser una naranja. No puede ser, hija ma, aunque te pongas rosada. Ni siquiera limoncito. Qu lstima!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

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Two Evening Moons

The moon is dead, is dead but in spring will come back to life. When across the poplars' faces the south wind is rippling. When our hears have yielded their harvest of sighs. When tiled roofs are wearing their little grass hats. The moon is dead, is dead but in spring will come back to life.

Two moons of evening

The Moon is dying, dying: but will be born again in the spring. When on the brow of the poplars is curled the wind from the south. When our hearts have given their harvest of sighing. When the rooftops are wearing their little sombreros of weeds. The moon is dying, dying: but will be reborn in the spring.

The evening is singing a berceuse to the oranges. My little sister is singing: The earth is an orange. In tears, the moon says: I want to be an orange. No way, my child, even if you turned rosy. Not even a nice lemon. Oh, what a pitty! (Bn dch: Alan S. Trueblood)

The evening is chanting a berceuse to the oranges. My little sisters chanting: the Earth is an orange. The moon weeping cries: I want to be an orange.You cannot be, my child, even if you were reddened. Not even if you turned lemon. What a shame that is! (Bn dch: http://spanishpoems.blogspot.com/2005/08/federicogarca-lorca-dos-lunas-de-tarde.html.)

Ht bi Tr Chi.
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K Nim Nm Th Hai
Vng trng va nh ln khi bin nh sng chiu thnh chic sng di. Sng nga k ln xanh v xm run run nh chm m ngt ngy. Tri bng bnh trn khng trung rng nh mt a sen n khng l. ( Ny em, sao i mt mnh, trong m khuya khot.)

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Segundo Aniversario
La luna clava en el mar un largo cuerno de luz. Unicornio gris y verde, estremecido, pero exttico. El cielo flota sobre el aire como una inmensa flor de loto. (Oh, t sola paseando la ltima estancia de la noche!)

Second Anniversary
The moon lays a long horn, of light, on the sea. Tremoring, ecstatic, the grey-green unicorn. The sky floats over the wind, a huge flower of lotus. (O you, walking alone, in the last house of night!) Translated by A. S. Kline

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Hoa
Dng liu r l su di cn ma, trng l. Ka, vng trng trn treo trn cnh sng.

Flor
El magnifico sauce de la lluvia, cafa. Oh, la luna redonda sobre las ramas blancas!

Ht Ca Khc Mt Trng.

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SAU LNG TRN TH

m Bn Khon
Con chim Tru (1) Trong bng cy m u. m che tri ngp ngng khng gian chng p ng. Ba ngi say lt kht liu xiu ngm ru bun, m m bao nhn nh. Chm sao l m xoay trn mt chn. Con chim Tru. Trong bng ti lm cy. Nhc nhi hai mng tang vng thi gian chm li. Im lng ra lm sao? Ba ngi say trn trung ca ht. ng may li trn tm la nguyn (2) ca khc ca anh. Con chim Tru. Uco uco uco uco (*3) Con chim Tru
(1) Chim n ong. Sc lng rc r, thuc gia nh chim s. Thng thy trong vng nhit i. (2) Pespunte de seda virgen. "A backstitch in virgin silk", b n dch ca Alan S. Trueblood. (3) Uco uco uco uco, ting chim Tru ku. "Heard, slurred, blurred, deferred", bn dch ca Alan S. Trueblood.

331

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TRASMUNDO

Malestar Y Noche
Abejaruco. En tus rboles oscuros. Noche de cielo balbuciente y aire tartamudo. Tres borrachos eternizan sus gestos de vino y luto. Los astros de plomo giran sobre un pie. Abejaruco. En tus rboles oscuros. Dolor de sien oprimida con guirnaldas de minutos. Y tu silencio? Los tres borrachos cantan desnudos. Pespunte de seda virgen tu cancin. Abejaruco. Uco uco uco uco. Abejaruco.

Disquiet and Night

Bee-eating bird. In the dark of your trees. Night of skies slurred and tongue-tied air. Three drunks perpetuate motions of wine and grief, blurred. The leaden stars pirouette on one foot. Bee- eating bird. In the dark of yur trees. Aching of temples confined in a garland of minutes deferred. What of your silence? The three naked drunks are singing. A backstich in virgin silk: Your song. Bee-eating bird. Heard, slurred, blurred, deferred. Bee-eating bird.

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Ngy Ci
Qung nhn ci ny xung nc. (Bn tay bng ti y sau lng ti.) Qung chic nhn i. Ti mt trm tui ri. Hy lng nghe! ng hi. Qung nhn ci ny xung nc.

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Desposorio
Tirad ese anillo al agua. (La sombra apoya sus dedos sobre mi espalda.) Tirad ese anillo. Tengo ms de cien aos. Silencio! No preguntadme nada! Tirad ese anillo al agua.

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Gi T
Mt mai nu ti qua i, ban cng xin m ca tri nhn ra. (T y thy chng bao xa) cu b sinh lc n qu cam ti. Vang vang gt la ht ci (T ban cng cm sng i nng dn.)

Despedida
Si muero, dejad el balcn abierto. El nio come naranjas. (Desde mi balcn lo veo.) El segador siega el trigo. (Desde mi balcn lo siento.) Si muero, dejad el balcn abierto!

335

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T Vn.
Khong chng 10 gi sng chng cm thy trng vng. Tri tim cu mang nng cnh gy v hoa tn. Tt c ch cn li mt li cui trn mi. Ci gng tay cht thy tro ri t bn tay. Nhn ra ban cng ngi lu thp m mnh l lu thp, ban cng. Nghi ng chi na, ng h cht kim dng theo di i chng. Bng ngi lng l nm sng soi trn trng k trng la tinh khi. Thanh xun mnh m y toan tnh nh p vo gng vi li ru. V ra mun mnh y bng ti trn ngp cn phng h o gng.

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Suicidio
(Quiz fue por no saberte la geometra) El jovencito se olvidaba. Eran las diez de la maana. Su corazn se iba llenando de alas rotas y flores de trapo. Not que ya no le quedaba en la boca ms que una palabra. Y al quitarse los guantes, caa, de sus manos, suave ceniza. Por el balcn se vea una torre. El se sinti balcn y torre. Vio, sin duda, cmo le miraba el reloj detenido en su caja. Vio su sombra tendida y quieta en el blanco divn de seda. Y el joven rgido, geomtrico, con un hacha rompi el espejo. Al romperlo, un gran chorro de sombra inund la quimrica alcoba.

Suicide
The lad was going blank. It was ten in the morning. His heart was growing full of broken wings and rag flowers. He noticed there remained just one word on his lips. And when he took off his gloves a soft ash fell from his hands. A tower showed through the balcony door. He felt he was balcony and tower. No doubt he saw how the clock, stopped in its case, surveyed him. He saw his shadow quiet and prone on the white silk divan. And the stiff, geometrical youth smashed the mirror with a hatchet. When it broke, a great burst of shadow flooded the illusory room.
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TNH YU

Tiu Khc c M Ln u
Mt bui snh thanh tn Ta mun thnh tri tim. L mt tri tim. Mt bui chiu gi nh Ta mun thnh Sn Ca. L chim Sn Ca. (Hn i, bng mu mu cam . Hn i, bng mu mu yu.) Mt bui sng sinh kh Ta mun c thnh Ti. L mt tri tim. Bui cui ngy chng vng Ta mun thnh ting ht. L chim Sn Ca. Hn i, bng mu mu cam . Hn i, bng mu mu yu.

338

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AMOR

Cancioncilla del Primer Deseo

En la maana verde, quera ser corazn. Corazn. Y en la tarde madura quera ser ruiseor. Ruiseor. (Alma, ponte color de naranja. Alma, ponte color de amor) En la maana viva, yo quera ser yo. Corazn. Y en la tarde cada quera ser mi voz. Ruiseor. Alma, ponte color naranja! Alma, ponte color de amor! In the green morning I wanted to be a heart. A heart. And in the ripe evening I wanted to be a nightingale. A nightingale. (Soul, turn orange-colored. Soul, turn the color of love.) In the vivid morning I wanted to be myself. A heart. And at the evening's end I wanted to be my voice. A nightingale. Soul, turn orange-colored. Soul, turn the color of love.

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Do Khc
Rng Bch Dng tip tc mc ti nhng chiu li i hnh nh xa. Rng Bch Dng tip tc mc ti nhng gi cho ngi ting gi a. Gi a t kh vo tang tc lng lng bay che c bu tri. Nhng xui dng nc ang tri ni gi gi cho i ting vng vang. Mt ci m dng n om m bay trn lan tr nh ca ta Cn tri tim mong manh qu i ang ny mm xanh trn ngn tay.

340

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Preludio
Las alamedas se van, pero dejan su reflejo. Las alamedas se van. pero nos dejan el viento. El viento est amortajado a lo largo bajo el cielo. Pero ha dejado flotando sobre los ros sus ecos. El mundo de las lucirnagas ha invadido mis recuerdos. Y un corazn diminuto me va brotando en los dedos.

Prelude
The poplar lanes move on but leave their reflection. The poplar lanes move on but leave us the wind. The wind lies shrouded full length beneath the sky. But floating on the rivers it has left its echoes. The world of fireflies has invaded my meories And a tiny little heart is sprouting at my fingertips.

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Tiu Tnh Khc

Mt hnh nh xc ng khng ngng lp lnh, gi m th di, x li vt thng c bng i tay bun b, i i, ta ngi li vi c m. Vt thng lng, ci ngun cho sc sng mu lun lun ti, nh sng trong lnh Thn Sn Ca (*) cm lng o thng tch tm rng qu, t m v bun dng. A, mt m thanh ngt ngo trong tm tr! Ta mun nm cnh a hoa hn nhin nhan sc em v tnh bay cao vt. Ri dng sng un khc i mu vng mu ta chy qua m ly bn ng m t v mi hng bc dc b sng.
(*) Philomel: Philomela, mt hnh nh trong thn thoi Hy Lp, thng thng tng trng cho chim Sn Ca.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Soneto
Largo espectro de plata conmovida el viento de la noche suspirando, abri con mano gris mi vieja herida y se alej: yo estaba deseando. Llaga de amor que me dar la vida perpetua sangre y pura luz brotando. Grieta en que Filomela enmudecida tendr bosque, dolor y nido blando. Ay qu dulce rumor en mi cabeza! Me tender junto a la flor sencilla donde flota sin alma tu belleza. Y el agua errante se pondr amarilla, mientras corre mi sangre en la maleza mojada y olorosa de la orilla.

Ht Ca Khc Tnh yu

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

CA KHC CHM DT

Mt Cch Khc
Chng vng t la thy cnh ng t m hnh dng i sng nai. Thung lng tri di xa xa ti Gi thong quanh co trong lung cy. Khi ln lan ta tri trong sng -c cp mt mo vng rt bun. Mt ta l lt theo cnh l l cnh l lt theo nc sng Bng dng cnh vt hin nguyn hnh. Tu ha ip khc ri ip khc. Gia lc ngy vi v ha m, l lng thay, Federico l tn ti!

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

CANCIONES PARA TERMINAR

De Otro Modo
La hoguera pone al campo de la tarde, unas astas de ciervo enfurecido. Todo el valle se tiende. Por sus lomos, caracolea el vientecillo. El aire cristaliza bajo el humo. ?Ojo de gato triste y amarillo?. Yo en mis ojos, paseo por las ramas. Las ramas se pasean por el ro. Llegan mis cosas esenciales. Son estribillos de estribillos. Entre los juncos y la baja tarde, qu raro que me llame Federico!

345

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ca Khc T Thn Cam Cn Ci

Tiu phu. Xin cht bng cy Cho ta thot khi t nay kh su v khng sinh qu mai sau. V sao s mnh ta vo cy cam?(*) Ngy ngy vy khn a mang m in ta bng ho quang sao tri. Cho ta sng tht mt i Cho ta m kin v tri bng bay l chim mung, l l cy. Tiu phu. Hy cht bng ny. Cho ta thot khi thng ngy kh au v khng cn qu mai sau. Tiu phu. Hy cht bng ta xung. Gii thot ta ra khi kh au v khng cn kt tri. Sao ta sinh ra gia nhng gng soi? Ngy li ngy b vy khn. Ri m in ly ta ln nhng ngi sao. Hy cho ta sng khng soi thy mnh Hy ta c m n kin v bng bay l l cy v chim chc. Tiu phu. Hy cht bng ta xung. Gii thot ta ra khi kh au v khng cn kt tri.

(*) Mirror trong ngha hnh nh trung thc, soi gng.

346

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cancin Del Naranjo Seco

A Carmen Morales Leador. Crtame la sombra. Lbrame del suplicio de verme sin toronjas. Por qu nac entre espejos? El da me da vueltas. Y la noche me copia en todas sus estrellas. Quiero vivir sin verme. Y hormigas y vilanos, soar que son mis hojas y mis pjaros. Leador. Crtame la sombra. Lbrame del suplicio de verme sin toronjas.

347

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Song of The Dead Orange Tree

Woodcutter. Cut down my shadow. Deliver me from the torment of bearing no fruit. Why was I born among mirrors? Day turns round and round me. And night copies me in all her stars. Let me live unmirrored And then letme dream that ants and thistledown are my leaves and my birds. Woodcutter. Cut down my shadow. Deliver me from the torment of bearing no fruit. (Bn dch: Alan S. Trueblood)

Song of The Dead Orange Tree

Woodcutter. Cut my shadow from me. Free me from the torment of seeing myself without fruit. Why was I born among mirrors? The day walks in circles around me, and the night copies me in all its stars. I want to live without seeing myself. And I will dream that ants and thistleburrs are my leaves and my birds. Woodcutter. Cut my shadow from me. Free me from the torment of seeing myself without fruit. (Bn dch: W.S.Merwin)

348

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Seis Poemas Galegos

Su Bi Th ca Ngi Ga Li Ci
349

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tiu Khc cho Thnh Ph Santiago

Ma ri trn ph Santiago yu du i. Khng gian thm mi hoa Bch Tr nh nng dn u m. Ma ri trn ph Santiago trong m ti tm. C lp lnh chim bao che ph vng trng v thng. Nhn ma ri trn ng, si v ly ru than khc. Nhn gi phi phai bng v tro chn vo ph bin. Bng v tro chn vo ph bin Santiago, thnh ph thiu mt tri, rung ng trong tim anh nc t bnh minh thin c.

350

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Madrigal Cibd de Santiago

Chove en Santiago meu doce amor camelia branca do ar brila entebrecida ao sol. Chove en Santiago na noite escura. Herbas de prata e sono cobren a valeira la. Olla a choiva pola ra laio de pedra e cristal. Olla no vento esvaido soma e cinza do teu mar. Soma e cinza do teu mar Santiago, lonxe do sol; agoa da maan anterga trema no meu corazn

351

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Madrigal for The City of Santiago Madrigal For The City of Santiago
Bd: A. S. Kline It rains on Santiago my sweet love. White camellia of air, sunlight in a veil. It rains on Santiago, in the dark night. Grass of silver and dream covers the empty moon. See the rain in the streets, the lament of stone and glass. See on the fading wind your seas shadow and ash. Your seas shadow and ash, Santiago, far from the sun: shivering in my heart, water of ancient dawn. Bd: Catherine Brown Rain falls on Santiago, my sweet love. White camellia of the air, the veiled sun shines. Rain falls on Santiago in the dark of night. Grasses of silver and dream cover the vacant moon. Look at the rain in the street, lament of stone and of glass. See on the languishing wind shadow and ash of your ocean. Shadow and ash of your ocean, Santiago, far from the sun; water of ancient morning trembles in my heart.

Madrigal to the City of Santiago

Bd: Norman Di Giovanni It rains in Santiago, my sweet love.

White camellia of the air, shadowy shines the sun. It rains in Santiago in the dark night.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca Grasses of silver and of sleep cover the empty moon. See the rain in the street, lament of stone and crystal. See in the vanishing wind shadow and ash of your sea.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Shadow and ash of your sea, Santiago, far from the sun. Water of ancient morning trembles in my heart.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Khc Nhc m Cho Thiu Nin Cht ui

Hy i xung, lng l, n b nc cn nhn cu thiu nin cht ui trong dng sng. Hy i xung, lng l, n b gi lng trc khi dng sng cun xc v i dng. Linh hn cu, b bng, b thng, ang than khc, l thng v c nhn m qua. Ma xung, tm t t vng trng, ph ni trc mt sc mu tim tm. Gi thi ri rp bng hoa Tr trong nh sng ho hon t mi xun xu s. Hy v y, nhng cu tr kh kho t ni non n ng rung, n nhn thiu nin cht ui di dng sng. Hy v y, nhng ngi ng nghch t cao nguyn n thung lng, trc khi dng sng cun xc v i dng. Sng a cu ta vi vo sng bin, ni tru nc gi chm ri n ri i. i, m cy bn b sng ca ht trn cao ting trng xun th sp t vng trng! Cu tr, hy i xung, n y, nhanh ln, ko mun! lc ny, dng sng ang cun xc ra i dng.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Noiturnio Do Adoescente Morto

Imos silandeiros orela do vado pra ver adolescente afogado. Imos silandeiros veiria do ar, antes que ise ro o leve pro mar. Sa i-alma choraba, ferida e pequena embaixo os arumes de pinos e dherbas. goa despenada baixaba da la cobrindo de lirios a montana na. O vento deixaba camelias de soma na lumieira murcha da sa triste boca. Vinde mozos loiros do monte e do prado pra ver o adoescente afogado! Vinde xente escura do cume e do val antes que ise ro o leve pro mar! O leve pro mar de curtias brancas onde van e vn vellos bois de goa. Ay, cmo cantaban os albres do Sil sobre a verde la, coma un tamboril! Mozos, imos, vinde, aixia, chegar porque xa ise ro mo leva pra o mar!
355

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Nocturne of The Drowned Youth

Bd: catherine Brown Let us go down, silent, to the bank of the ford to look at the youth who drowned there, in the water. Let us go down, silent, to the shore of the air before this river takes him down to the sea. His soul was weeping, wounded and small, under needles of pine and grasses. Water descended, flung down from the moon, and covered the naked mountain with violets. The wind laid camellias of shadow in the wilted light of his unhappy mouth. Come, blind boys of the mountains and fields, come look at the youth who drowned there, in the water. Come, dark folk of the peak and the valleys, before this river takes him down to the sea. It takes him down to the white-curtained sea, where old water-oxen come and go slowly. Oh, how the trees by the river were singing over the sunken green drum of the moon! Boys, let us go; come, hurry, away! just now this river takes him down to the sea.
356

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Trng Satiago Nhy Ma

Nhn xem, mt chng qu phi trang phc trng hy nhn mt thn xc d tha! l mt trng ang nhy ma trong sn tng m gia ngha trang. Hy nhn mt hnh hi v dng, bin en theo bng ti v ch hoang. M i, mt trng ang nhy ma trong sn tng m gia ngha trang. Ai lm h con nga bng gc cng vo khu vc ngh yn? Mt trng ! L mt trng sng trong sn tng m gia ngha trang. Ai ang nhn vo ca s u m vi i mt y c my bay? Mt trng ! L mt trng sng trong sn tng m gia ngha trang Cho ti c cht trn ging ng trong gic m n hoa ngc ng (1) M i, Mt trng ang nhy ma trong sn tng m gia ngha trang.
357

Th Federico Garcia Lorca i, con gi i, gi tri thi cht ha m thnh mu trng tang! Khng phi gi, l nh trng bun b trong sn tng m ca ngha trang.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

GHI: (1) Hoa bng vng.

358

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Danza Da La En Santiago
Fita aquel branco galn, olla seu transido corpo! a la que baila na Quintana dos mortos. Fita seu corpo transido, negro de somas e lobos. Nai: A la est bailando na Quintana dos mortos. Qun fire potro de pedra na mesma porta do sono? a la! a la na Quintana dos mortos! Qun fita meus grises vidros cheos de nubens seus ollos? a la, a la na Quintana dos mortos. Dixame morrer no leito soando con froles d'ouro. Nai: A la est bailando na Quintana dos mortos.

Ai filla, co r do co vlvome branca de pronto! Non o ar, a triste la na Quintana dos mortos. Qun bra co-este xemido d'imenso boi melancnico? Nai: a la, a la na Quintana dos mortos. Si, a la, a la coronada de toxos, que baila, e baila, e baila na Quintana dos mortos!

Danza De La Luna En Santiago

Mira aquel blanco galn mira su transido cuerpo Es la luna que baila en la Quintana de los muertos Cinta su cuerpo transido negro de somas y lobos Madre: la luna est bailando
359

Th Federico Garcia Lorca en la Quintana de los muertos. Quin hiere potro de piedra en la misma puerta del sueo? Es la luna Es la luna en la Quintana de los muertos Quin hita mis grises vidrios llenos de nubes sus ojos? Es la luna Es la luna en la Quintana de los muertos Me deja morir en el lecho soando con flores de oro

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Madre: la luna est bailando en la Quintana de los muertos Ay hija, con el aire del cielo me vuelvo blanca de pronto! No es el aire, es la triste luna en la Quintana de los muertos. Quin brama con este gemido el inmenso ir melanclico? Madre: Es la luna, la luna coronada de tojos que baila, y baila, y baila en la Quintana de los muertos!

360

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Dance of The Santiago Moon

Bd: A.S. Kline Look at that white gallant look at his wasted flesh! Its the moon thats dancing in the Courtyard of the Dead. Look at his wasted flesh, black with twilight and wolves. Mother: The moon dances in the Courtyard of the Dead. Who wounds the horse of stone at the gates of sleep? Its the moon! Its the moon in the Courtyard of the Dead! Who looks in my grey windows, with an eye full of cloud? Its the moon! Its the moon in the Courtyard of the Dead! Let me die in my bed dreaming the flower of gold.

Mother: The moon dances in the Courtyard of the Dead. Ay, daughter, the air in the sky has suddenly turned me white! It isnt the air, its the sad moon in the Courtyard of the Dead.

Dance of the Moon in Santiago

Bd: Norman Di Giovanni Regard that white gallant, look at his spent body! It is the moon that dances in the Courtyard of the Dead. Look at his spent body, blackened with shadows and wolves. Mother, the moon is dancing in the Coutyard of the Dead. Who wounds the stone foal as the very porteal of sleep? It is the moon! It is the moon in the Courtyard of the Dead!

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca Who stares at my gray glasses his eyes filled with clouds? It is the moon! It is the moon in the Courtyard of the Dead! Let me perish in my bed dreaming of golden flowers. Mother, the moon is dancing in the Courtyard of the Dead. Ay, daughter, with the wind of the sky I turn suddenly white!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

It is not the wind but the sad moon in the Courtyard of the Dead. Who bellows with this moan of great melancholy ox? Mother: The moon, it is the moon in the Courtyard of the Dead. Yes, the moon, the moon crowned with furze that dances, dances, dances in the Courtyard of the Dead.

Dance of the Moon in Santiago

Bd: Catherine Brown Look at that white cavalier, look at his wasted body! It is the moon that dances in the courtyard of the dead. Look at his wasted body, black with shadow and wolves Mother, the moon is dancing in the courtyard of the dead. Who wounds the stone colt at the portals of sleep?

It's the moon! It's the moon in the courtyard of the dead. Who looks in my gray windows with his eyes full of clouds? It's the moon, it's the moon in the courtyard of the dead. Let me die here in bed, the flower of gold in my dreams. Mother, the moon is dancing in the courtyard of the dead. Oh, daughter, the air from the sky has suddenly turned me white!

362

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. in the courtyard of the dead.

It isn't the air, it's the unhappy moon in the courtyard of dead. Who moans with that moan of an ox, huge and sad? Mother, it's the moon, it's the moon

Yes, it's the moon, the moon with its crown of gorse that dances, dances, dances in the courtyard of the dead!

363

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Nhng Bi Th Ri ca Federico Garcia Lorca

POEMAS SUELTOS
364

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

NHNG BI TH RI.

Th tuyn t Federico Garcia Lorca Selected Verse.

T Nhn
Gia nhng ng r nng hu lng l v nh i sng bn khon. Gia nhng ng r phn vn. Qua tm gng soi nh nng phn chiu nng ngy rng r trn vng trn sng sut. Gia nhng ng r phn vn. Trong m ti, lc lng, nng lang thang, khc ri nhng git sng, thng thi gian t ngc. Gia nhng ng r phn vn.

T Nhn
Gia ng gia ng dng dng nng i ngonh li bn khon li no nh i lng l chim bao. ng mun vn li lng sao ngi ngn. Soi gng qu kh bng khung phn hi rng r ph vn nng ngy sng trn vng trn th ngy. Gia ng gia ng chn y ng ngng. Gia m lc lng lang thang, sng ri nh l khc nng khc cho vy khn thi gian t y. Gia ng gia ng chn ny phn vn.

365

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

POEMAS SUELTOS.

Cautiva
Por las ramas indecisas iba una doncella que era la vida. Por las ramas indecisas. Con un espejito reflejaba el da que era un resplandor de su frente limpia. Por las ramas indecisas. Sobre las tinieblas andaba perdida, llorando roco, del tiempo cautiva. Por las ramas indecisas

The Prisoner
Though the indecisive branches went a girl who was life. Through the indecisive branches. She reflected daylight, with a tiny mirror, which was the splendour, of her unclouded forehead. Through the indecisive branches. In the dark of night, lost, she wandered, weeping the dew, of this imprisoned time. Through the indecisive branches, (Bn dch: A.S.Kline)

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Captive
Through the branches hesitant, went a maiden who was life. Through the branches hesitant, she caught the day's reflection in a little morror: the glow of her limpid brow. Through the branches hesitant. Over the shadows she went astray, weeping dewdrops, the captive of time. Through the branches hesitant. ( Christopher Maurer.)

367

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bi Th Ngn V Tn
i sai ng s n ni ngp tuyt, n ni ngp tuyt l vi trm nm gm c tha ma. i sai ng s gp n b, n b khng s nh sng, n b git hai con g trong mt giy, nh sng khng s con g, g trng khng bit gy trn tuyt. Nhng nu tuyt ri lm con tim c l cn gi Nm s thi, v t khi gi khng cn than th mt ln na chng ta li gm c tha ma. Ti thy hai cy la thm thng bng sp chn vi trong t thch nham Ti cn thy hai cu b in lon khc khi chc thng mt k st nhn. Nhng hai khng bao gi l con s v ch l ni au v bng m, l th hin cho iu g v tn, l vch cao bao bc xc cht, l trng pht s ti sinh v khn cng. Ngi cht ght s hai, nhng s hai ru n b ng, t khi n b s nh sng,
368

Th Federico Garcia Lorca nh sng run trc g trng, nhng con g trng bay trn tuyt chng ta li gm c tha ma.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

369

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Pequeno Poema Infinito

Equivocar el camino es llegar a la nieve y llegar a la nieve es pacer durante veinte siglos las hierbas de los cementerios. Equivocar el camino es llegar a la mujer, la mujer que no teme la luz, la mujer que mata dos gallos en un segundo, la mujer que no teme a los gallos y los gallos que no saben cantar sobre la nieve. Pero si la nieve se equivoca de corazn puede llegar el viento Austro y como el aire no hace caso de los gemidos tendremos que pacer otra vez las hierbas de los cementerios. Yo vi dos dolorosas espigas de cera que enterraban un paisaje de volcanes y vi dos nios locos que empujaban llorando las pupilas de un asesino. Pero el dos no ha sido nunca un nmero porque es una angustia y su sombra, porque es la demostracin de otro infinito que no es suyo y es las murallas del muerto y el castigo de la nueva resurreccin sin finales.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca Los muertos odian el nmero dos, pero el nmero dos adormece a las mujeres y como la mujer teme la luz la luz tiembla delante de los gallos y los gallos slo saben votar sobre la nieve tendremos que pacer sin descanso las hierbas de los cementerios.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

371

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. unending resurrection

Little Infinite Poem

Bd: Greg Simon v Steven F. White To take the wrong road is to arrive at snow and to arrive at snow is to graze for several centuries on graveyard weeds To take the wrong road is to arrive at woman, woman unafraid of light, woman killing two roosters a second, light unafraid of roosters, and roosters that can't sing on snow. But is snow choose the wrong heart the South Wind can come, and since air no attention to moaning, we'll have to graze once more on graveyard weeds, I saw two sad, waxen spikes of wheat that buried a volcanic landscape, and two crazy children who wept as they pushed a murderer's eyeballs. But two has never been a number, It is anguish and its shadow, it is the demonstration of something else's infinity, and the dead man's walls, and the punishment of the new,

Dead men hate the number two, but the number two lulls women to sleep and since women fear light, and light trembles before roosters, and roosters only fly above the snow we'll have to graze on graveyard weeds.

Little infinite poem

To take the wrong road is to arrive at the snow and to arrive at the snow is to get down on all fours for twenty centuries and eat the grasses of the cemeteries. To take the wrong road is to arrive at woman, woman who isn't afraid of light, woman who kills two roosters in one second light which isn't afraid of roosters, and roosters who don't know how to sing on top of the snow. But if the snow took the wrong heart, the southern wind could very well arrive and since the air cares nothing for groans, we will have to get down on all fours again and eat the grasses of the cemeteries. I saw two mournful wheatheads made of wax,
372

Th Federico Garcia Lorca burying a countryside of volcanoes, and I saw two insane little boys who wept as they leaned on a murderer's eyeballs. that will never end.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Dead people hate the number two, but the number two makes women drop off to sleep, But two, that is not a number! and since women are afraid of light, All it is is an agony and its shadow, light shudders when it has to face the roosters, it's only the guitar where love feels its and since all roosters know is how to fly over the discouragement, snow, It's only the demonstration of someone else's infinity we will have to get down on all foursand eat the a castle raised around a dead man, grasses of the cementeries forever. and the scourging of the new ressurection

Little Infinite Poem

Bd: Paul Archer To take the wrong road is to arrive at the snow and arriving at the snow is to graze for several centuries on the grass of cemeteries. To take the wrong road is to arrive at the woman, the woman who doesnt fear the light, the woman who kills two roosters in a second, the light that doesnt fear the roosters and roosters that don't know how to sing across the snow. But if the snow chooses the wrong heart, the South Wind may arrive

and as the air pays no heed to groans well have to graze again on the grass of cemeteries. I saw two saddened, waxen ears of wheat that buried a landscape of volcanoes and I saw two mad boys weeping as they pressed the pupils in a murderers eyes. But two has never been a number because it is anguish and its shadow it's the guitar where love is driven to despair it's the proof of an infinity not its own and its the walls of the dead and the punishment of the new, unending resurrection. The dead hate the number two, but the number two lulls women to sleep,
373

Th Federico Garcia Lorca and as woman fears the light, light trembles before the roosters and as roosters know only how to fly across the snow,

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. well have to graze on the grass of cemeteries forever.

374

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Tuyn trong The Selected Poems of Federico Garcia Lorca

ng H Ngng Chy.
Ti ngi xung gia mt ch thi gian. Ni vng nc ng lng im, mt im lng tinh khi, mt vng trn khng khip ni tinh t chm vo 12 con s en bnh bng.

375

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Claro Del Reloj

Me sent en un claro del tiempo. Era un remanso de silencio, de un blanco silencio, anillo formidable donde los luceros chocaban con los doce flotantes nmeros negros.

Pause of The Clock

I sat down in a space of time. It was a blackwater of silence, a white silence, a formidable ring wherein the stars collided with the twelve floating black numbers (Bn dch: Stanley Read.)

376

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Thn Ln ang Khc...

Chng thn ln ang khc.... Nng thn ln ang khc.... Chng v nng thn ln mang tp d trng phau. L nh nh mt chic nhn ci A, chic nhn ci bng ch, a, chic nhn ci b bng! Bu tri rng khng ngi ta nht chim trong lng cu khinh kh. Mt tri, ch nhn trn trnh mc o ghi-l sa-tanh. Nhn xem, h gi bit bao! Thn ln gi bit bao! i, h khc ri khc.... ! ! h tip tc khc ri khc...!

377

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

El Lagarto Esta Llorando... The Lizard Is Crying....

El lagarto est llorando. La lagarta est llorando. El lagarto y la lagarta con delantalitos blancos. Han perdido sin querer su anillo de desposados. Ay, su anillito de plomo, ay, su anillito plomado! Un cielo grande y sin gente monta en su globo a los pjaros. El sol, capitn redondo, lleva un chaleco de raso. Miradlos qu viejos son! Qu viejos son los lagartos! Ay, cmo lloran y lloran, ay! ay! cmo estn llorando! The he-Lizard is crying.... The she-lizard is crying.... The he-lizard and the she-lizard with little white aprons. Have lost without wanting to their wedding ring. Ah, their little leaden wedding ring, ah, their little ring of lead! A large sky without people carries the birds in its ballon. The sun, rotund captain, wears a satin waistcoat. Look how old they are! How old the lizards are! Oh, how they cry and cry, Oh! Oh! How they go on crying ! (Bn dch: Stephen Spender & J.L. Gili.)

378

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Anh Cht Lc Hng ng

m c bn mt trng v mt cy c qunh mt bng c n mt chim c c. Ti tm vo thn xc du vt b mi em. Sui nc hn gi thi s khng chm vo nhau. Ti nh mi ch "Khng" ca ln em t chi gi cht trong lng tay, nh gi tri chanh sp gn phai mu. m vi bn mt trng v mt cy n chic. Trn nh nhn i, tnh yu quay cung!

379

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Murio Al Amanecer
Noche de cuatro lunas y un solo rbol, con una sola sombra y un solo pjaro. Busco en mi carne las huellas de tus labios. El manantial besa al viento sin tocarlo. Llevo el No que me diste, en la palma de la mano, como un limn de cera casi blanco. Noche de cuatro lunas y un solo rbol, En la punta de una aguja, est mi amor girando!

He Died At Dawn
Night of four moons and one lone tree, with one lone shadow and one lone bird. I seek in my flesh the tracks of your lips. The fountain kisses the wind without touch. I carry the No that you gave me in the palm of my hand, like a lemon of wax almost white. Night of four moons and one lone tree. On a pin's point my love is spinning! (Bn dch: Greville Texidor. )

380

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cancin Cantada
En el gris, el pjaro Griffn se vesta de gris. Y la nia Kikirik perda su blancor y forma all. Para entrar en el gris me pint de gris. Y cmo relumbraba en el gris!

A Song Sung
Bd: William Jay Smith. In cold gray the Griffon bird was clothed in gray. And there from little Kikiriki whiteness and shape were taken away. To enter cold gray I painted myself gray. And how I sparkled in the cold gray!

381

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cy, Cy...
Cy, cy kh v xanh. Thiu n c khun mt p ang hi tri -Liu. Gi nh chng lng l, m nng ngang eo ch. Bn k s i qua ci nga ging Andalusi y phc mu tri , mu l xanh o chong ln mu m. " C i, i Corboda nha" Thiu n khng . Ba chng u b tr i qua thn hnh thon gn, mc o mu da cam mang kim mu c bc. "C i, i Sevilla nha." Thiu n khng . Ri chiu xung mu tm ri nng khp ni, Mt chng trai i qua mang tng hoa Hng hoa Bng lng t mt trng " C i, i Granada nha." Thiu n khng . Thiu n c khun mt p tip tc hi -Liu, vi cnh tay bun ca gi ang chong quanh lng eo
382

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Cy, cy. Kh v xanh. GHI: Thiu n chnh l cy -Liu.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

383

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Arbole, Arbole...
Arbol, arbol, seco y verd. La nia del bello rostro est cogiendo aceituna. El viento, galn de torres, la prende por la cintura. Pasaron cuatro jinetes sobre jacas andaluzas, con trajes de azul y verde, con largas capas oscuras. "Vente a Crdoba, muchacha." La nia no los escucha. Pasaron tres torerillos delgaditos de cintura, con trajes color naranja y espadas de plata antigua. "Vente a Crdoba, muchacha." La nia no los escucha. Cuando la tarde se puso morada, con lux difusa, pas un joven que llevaba rosas y mirtos de luna. "Vente a Granada, muchacha." Y la nia no lo escucha. La nia del bello rostro sigue cogiendo aceituna, con el brazo gris del viento ceido por la cintura. Arbol, arbol. Seco y verd.
384

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tree, Tree....
Bd: William Logan. Tree, tree dry and green. The girl with the pretty face is out picking olives. The wind, playboy of towers, grabs her around the waist. Four riders passed by on Andalusian ponies, with blue and green jackets and big, dark capes. "Come to Cordoba, muchacha." The girl won't listen to them. Three young bullfighters passed, slender in the waist, with jackets the color of oranges and swords of ancient silver. "Come to Sevilla, muchacha." The girl won't listen to them. When the afternoon had turned dark brown, with scattered light, a young man passed by, wearing roses and myrtle of the moon. "Come to Granada, inuchacha." And the girl won't listen to him. The girl with the pretty face keeps on picking olives with the grey arm of the wind

wrapped around her waist. Tree, tree dry and green.

Tree, Tree...
Bd: Stephen Spender and J.L. Gili Tree, tree, dry and green. The girl of beautiful face goes gathering olives. The wind, that suitor of towers, graps her round the waist. Four riders have passed on Andalusian ponies, with suits of azure and green, and long dark cloaks. " Come to Crdoba, lass." The girl pays no heed. Three young bullfighters have passed, their waist are slender, their suits opange-coloured, their swords of antique silver. " Come to Seville, lass." The girl pays no heed. When the evening became purple, with diffused light, a youth passed by bringing roses and myrtles of the moon. " Come to Granada, lass."
385

Th Federico Garcia Lorca But the girl pays no heed. The girl of beautiful face still goes on gathering olive, with the gray arm of wind encircling her waist. Tree, tree. Dry and green.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

386

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Thng B Cm
Thng b i tm ting ni ca mnh ( ng vua d gi ht m thanh) Theo git nc ri thng b i tm ging ni. Ti khng mun dng ting pht m, Ti mun lm m thanh thnh chic nhn cho cm lng mang vo ngn tay nh. Theo git nc ri thng b i tm ting ni ca mnh. ( Ging ni b giam cm trn cnh d rt xa.)

387

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

El Nino Mudo
El nio busca su voz. (La tena el rey de los grillos.) En una gota de agua buscaba su voz el nio. No la quiero para hablar; me har con ella un anillo que llevar mi silencio en su dedo pequeito. En una gota de agua buscaba su voz el nio. (La voz cautiva, a lo lejos, se pona un traje de grillo.)

The Little Mute Boy

The little boy was looking for his voice. (The king of the crickets had it.) In a drop of water the little boy was looking for his voice. I do not want it for speaking with; I will make a ring of it that my silence may wear on its little finger. In a drop of water the little boy was looking for his voice. (The captive voice, far away, put on a cricket's clothes.) (Bn dch: W.S. Merwin. )

388

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Lng Kht Khao Ca Bc Tng

Li n. S khng c g tn ti, ngoi tr li n. Hng thm. S khng c g tn ti, ngoi tr hng thm. Nhng nc mt vn ri t tr nh v sc mu ca thi gian xa xa. Bun phin. Hy i din vi bun phin nhanh chng v k diu. Kh khn. Chn tht, s bn thu ca kh khn. Hy gii thot ti khi m ngi v hnh mun i quanh qun ni c ng.

389

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ansia De Estatua
Rumor. Aunque no quede ms que el rumor Aroma. Aunque no quede ms que el aroma. Pero arranca de m el recuerdo y el color de las viejas horas. Dolor. Frente al mgico y vivo dolor. Batalla. En la autntica y sucia batalla. Pero quita la gente invisible que rodea perenne mi casa

Desire of A Statue
Rumor. Though nothing may remain but the rumor. Odor. Though nothing may remain but the odor. But tear out of me the memory and the color of the old hours. Sorrow. Facing the magical quick sorrow. Struggle. The genuine, the unclean struggle. But rid me of the invisible people who forever move about my house! (Bn dch: W.S. Merwin)

390

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ngi V Phn Bi
Th ri ti a nng n b sng tng rng nng cn c thn ng u nng c chng. Bui chiu Saint james hu nh l nh mnh. n ng t nhin tt. n d thp sng ln. Ni gc h cui ph ti nng niu i v ng qun. bt ng v bng n cnh hoa D Lan Hng. Chic o lt h cng nghe thnh ting du dng nh vi la mm mi mi ngn tay ti x nh dao. Tng l khng nh sng lp lnh rng cy hnh nh rm rp thm. Vm chn tri nghe tru ting ch t ni no xa lt b sng. Qua bi cy Mm Xi, (1) qua lm To Gai v lau sy, di mi tc ca nng ti o mt vng lm trn t. Ti ci c vt vi vng. Nng ci nhanh y phc. Ti tho sng v nt da. Nng tho dn bn o lt. Hoa Cam Tng hay Ngc trai
391

Th Federico Garcia Lorca khng th snh bng ln da mn,. d thy tinh hay vng trng khng th sng nh vy. i i thon ln trn ti nng nh con c hong ht na nng bng na lnh lng. m y ti phi nga trn con ng tuyt vi ci lng nga ngc trai khng cn yn cng, bn p. Ngi qun t khng k li nhng li nng ni th thm. nh sng ca tr tu khin cho ti kn o. Ngi dnh ct, mi y n hn ti a nng ra khi b sng Hoa Ly Ly rung nhng l nhn nh li gng m vo gi thi. Ti c x theo cch ca ti mt ngi gypsy ng mc. Ti tng nng mt r may an bng rm bng long, ti khng ly v tnh mc d c chng nng ni vi ti cn c thn khi ti a nng ra b sng.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(1) Blackberry.

392

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

La Casada Infie
Y que yo me la lleve al rio creyendo que era mozuela, pero tenia marido. Fue la noche de Santiago y casi por compromiso. Se apagaron los faroles y se encendieron los grillos. En las ultimas esquinas toque sus pechos dormidos, y se me abrieron de pronto como ramos de jacintos. El almidon de su enagua me sonaba en el oido como una pieza de seda rasgada por diez cuchillos. Sin luz de plata en sus copas los arboles han crecido, y un horizonte de perros ladra muy lejos del rio. Pasadas las zarzamoras, los juncos 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. Ni nardos ni caracolas tienen el cutis tan fino,
393

Th Federico Garcia Lorca ni los cristales con luna relumbran con ese brillo. Sus muslos se me escapaban como peces sorprendidos, la mitad llenos de lumbre, la mitad llenos de frio. Aquella noche corri el mejor de los caminos, montado en potra de nacar sin bridas y sin estribos. No quiero decir, por hombre, las cosas que ella me dijo. La luz del entendimiento me hace ser muy comedido. Sucia de besos y arena, yo me la lleve del rio. Con el aire se batian las espadas de los lirios. Me porte como quien soy. Como un Gitano legitimo. La regale un costurero grande, de raso pajizo, y no quise enamorarme porque teniendo marido me dijo que era mozuela cuando la llevaba al rio.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

394

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The Faithless Wife

So I took her to the river. I thought she was a fledgling girl, but she had a husband. It was on Saint James' Eve and almost as if prearranged, the street lamps went out. The crickets came on. At the far end of town I touched each sleeping breast. Like the shoots of hyacinth they opened suddenly under me. The starch of her petticoat sounded like cut silk to my ears, silk being cut by 10 knives. Without silver light on their leaves, the trees had grown bigger and a horizon of dogs barked from across the river. Out beyond the burr and thistle, the hawthorn and reed, underneath her shag of hair I made a hollow in the clay. I took off my necktie. She took off her gown.

I, my belt of pistols. She, her four bodices. Never has nard or Mother of Pearl seemed as fine as her skin then. Nor have the mirrors or the moons ever burned like that. Like little startled fish her thighs frustrated me, one half filled with fire, the other filled with cold. That night the road I galloped was the most splendid of them all, galloping without bridle or stirrup on such a fledgling made of pearl. I am a man, I won't repeat the things she said to me. Experience in such matters has made me discrete. At last, splattered with kisses and sand, I took her from the river. The swords of wild irises stabbed at the morning air. I behaved as what I am. Like a true-blooded gypsy. I gave her a sewing basket made of straw-hued satin and forbid myself to fall in love.
395

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Though she had a husband, I thought she was a fledgling when I took her to the river. Bd: Zachary Jean Chartkoff

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Past the hawthorns, the reeds, and the brambles, below her dome of hair I made a hollow in the sand. I took off my tie. She took of a garment. I my belt with my revolver. She four bodices. Creamy tuberoses or shells are not as smooth as her skin was, or, in the moonlight, crystals shining brilliantly. Her thighs slipped from me like fish that are startled, one half full of fire, one half full of coldness. That night I galloped on the best of roadways, on a mare of nacre, without stirrups, without bridle. As a man I cannot tell you the things she said to me. The light of understanding has made me most discreet. Smeared with sand and kisses, I took her from the river. The blades of the lilies were fighting with the air.
396

The Unfaithful Wife

So I took her to the river thinking she was virgin, but it seems she had a husband. It was the night of Saint Iago, and it almost was a duty. The lamps went out, the crickets lit up. By the last street corners I touched her sleeping breasts, and they suddenly had opened like the hyacinth petals. The starch of her slip crackled in my ears like silk fragments ripped apart by ten daggers. The tree crowns free of silver light are larger, and a horizon, of dogs, howls far away from the river.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. And a skyline of hounds yowling very far from the shore. Passing the blackberry bushes, passing the reeds and the bracken, under her cover of hair I scooped a hole in the clay. I unfastened my necktie. She unfastened her skirt. I, my belt and revolver. She, her petticoats - four. Neither camellia, seashell such delight to the finger. Never a moon on water shone as she did then. Her thighs in my clutch, elusive as bass you catch bare-handed. Half, they were fire and splendor; chilly as winter, half. That night I went riding the finest of all our journeys, fast on a filly of pearl, that never knew stirrup or curb! I'm man enough not to be breathing certain words she uttered. I'm a clean straight-thinking fellow with a decent tongue in love. She was slubbered with kisses and sand when I took her home from the river. The air was a melee of sabers: lilies raged at the wind.

I behaved as what I am, as a true gypsy. I gave her a sewing basket, big, with straw-coloured satin. I did not want to love her, for though she had a husband, she said she was a virgin when I took her to the river. Bd: A.S.Kline

The Unfaithful Wife

... so I walked her down to the river. I was really the first, she said - forgetting the fact of a husband. On the night of the patron of Spain I was merely trying to oblige. As the streetlamps all went black and crickets came afire. When we reached the end of the sidewalk I touched her breasts: sleeping. They blossomed for me promptly, no hyacinth so sweet. The slip she wore, starched cotton, hissed in my ear excitement. As a piece of silk would, ripped to ribbons by ten knives. No silver catching the branches, the trees loomed enormous.

397

Th Federico Garcia Lorca I behaved like the man I am: hundred-percent gypsy. And presented her with a saffron satiny case, de luxe. But for falling in love? - not me! She with a husband, yet to say I was really the first as I walked her down to the river! Bd: John Frederick Nims

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The Faithless Wife

So I took her to the river believing she was a maiden, but she already had a husband. It was on St. James night and almost as if I was obliged to. The lanterns went out and the crickets lighted up. In the farthest street corners I touched her sleeping breasts and they opened to me suddenly like spikes of hyacinth. The starch of her petticoat sounded in my ears like a piece of silk rent by ten knives. Without silver light on their foliage the trees had grown larger and a horizon of dogs barked very far from the river.

Past the blackberries, the reeds and the hawthorne underneath her cluster of hair I made a hollow in the earth I took off my tie, she too off her dress. I, my belt with the revolver, She, her four bodices. Nor nard nor mother-o-pearl have skin so fine, nor does glass with silver shine with such brilliance. Her thighs slipped away from me like startled fish, half full of fire, half full of cold. That night I ran on the best of roads mounted on a nacre mare without bridle stirrups. As a man, I wont repeat the things she said to me. The light of understanding has made me more discreet. Smeared with sand and kisses I took her away from the river. The swords of the lilies battled with the air. I behaved like what I am, like a proper gypsy. I gave her a large sewing basket,
398

Th Federico Garcia Lorca of straw-colored satin, but I did not fall in love for although she had a husband

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. she told me she was a maiden when I took her to the river. http://www.boppin.com/lorca/faith.html

399

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Nhng bi th trch trn mng www.spanishpoems.blogspot.com

Ca Khc cho Ngi Dn Du Mc (Gypsy) B Hnh H

Hai mi bn ln h nh p ti. Tt c l hai mi lm ln; Sau , ch tri ti, m s qun ti vo giy bc. Lnh v binh trn ng cho ti mt ngm nc. Nc vi t do ca c v thuyn b. Nc, nc, nc, nc. A, ngi ch huy v binh, ang trong phng tr! S khng b khn la (1) che mt tin a ng. (1) Tc ngi cht phi che mt bng khn.

400

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cancin del Gitano Apaleado

Veinticuatro bofetadas. Veinticinco bofetadas; despus, mi madre, a la noche, me pondr en papel de plata. Guardia civil caminera, dadme unos sorbitos de agua. Agua con peces y barcos. Agua, agua, agua, agua. Ay, mandor de los civiles que ests arriba en tu sala! No habr pauelos de seda para limpiarme la cara!

401

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Song of The Beaten Gypsy

Twenty-four times they punched me. Twenty-five times in all; later, when its dark, my mother will wrap me up in silver foil. Civil Guard of the highways, give me a sip of water. Water with fish and boats. Water, water, water, water. Civil Guard commander, you up there in your room! Therell never be silk handkerchiefs to tidy up my face!

402

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ca Khc Cho M Ca Amargo

H khing anh ta bng tm vi ca ti (1) vi hoa Trc o v cnh Da chin cng. Ngy 27 thng 8 vi chic dao vng danh d. i Thnh gi. Sao m nng qu! Tc anh en v nt i ng cay. Ph n trong xm, mang bnh m vng y nc chanh cho ti. Thnh gi. Xin mi ngi ng khc. By gi anh Amargo n cung trng.

(1) l cht th.

403

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cancin De La Madre Del Amargo

Lo llevan puesto en mi sbana mis adelfas y mi palma. Da veintisiete de agosto con un cuchillito de oro. La cruz. Y vamos andando! Era moreno y amargo. Vecinas, dadme una jarra de azfar con limonada. La cruz. No llorad ninguna. El Amargo est en la luna.

404

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Song of Amargo's Mother

They carry him upon my sheet, my oleanders and my palm. The twenty-seventh of August with a tiny knife of gold. The cross. So much for that! He was dark-haired and bitter. Neighbour ladies, bring me a brass pitcher filled with lemonade. The cross. Dont anybody weep. Amargo now is in the moon.

405

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Chuyn ng Trung T V Binh Quc Gia

Trng, trng, trng, trng... Trng, trng, trng, trng, trn rng -Liu chn tri. Thnh Cazorla nh cao pho i cn ph Benameji th chm khut. Trng, trng, trng, trng. Con g trng gy khi trng ln. ng Mayor, hy nhn c con gi (1) ang ngm trng.

(1) Mayor c th l tn h. Kh thng dng Ty Ban Nha. Nhng cng c th l chc v Th trng. Trong trng hp ny, c l l tn ca v trung t v binh quc gia.

406

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Escena del Teniente Coronel de La Guardia Civil

Luna, luna, luna, luna... Luna, luna, luna, luna, del tiempo de la aceituna. Cazorla ensea su torre y Benamej la oculta. Luna, luna, luna, luna. Un gallo canta en la luna. Seor alcalde, sus nias estn mirando a la luna.

Scene of the lieutenant colonel of the Civil Guard

Moon, moon, moon, moon... Moon, moon, moon, moon, at olive-picking time. Cazorla shows its tower and Benamej hides it own. Moon, moon, moon, moon. A cockerel sings up on the moon. Mr. Mayor, your little girls Are looking at the moon.

407

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cu Chuyn Hai Nm M v Con Ch Assyri

Bn i: hy chi dy lng nghe con ch Assyri ct ting h. Ba n thn trong Bc Gii nhy ma, con . H mang n c ng keo sp v khn ging th ni Bc Gii ng yn. Con nga mc mt mt trn c mt trng lnh lo trn cao x m tinh cu thn V N ri dm ngha a vo mu v bi tro. Bn i, Thc dy, ni vn cn tt th cn c tim ti mc ni no. Chng c g, nu bn chm trong nc bin. Ti yu cu tr t lu cu ngm lng g trn u li cng ti trm tui sng trong con dao. Thc dy. Im lng. lng nghe. Ngi ln mt lt. Ting tru l chic li tm ngt b qun n kin s hi v ru ngm Din V. By gi, ting tru n gn bia . ng dui chn ra! N n gn hn. Bn i, hy rn r. ng thn thc trong m. Bn i: hy chi dy lng nghe con ch Assyri ct ting h. (*) Hai hn trong hai ngi m tr chuyn.
408

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Paisaje Con Dos Tumbas Y Un Perro Asirio

Amigo: levntate para que oigas aullar al perro asirio. Las tres ninfas del cncer han estado bailando, hijo mo. Trajeron unas montaas de lacre rojo y unas sbanas duras donde estaba el cncer dormido. El caballo tena un ojo en el cuello y la luna estaba en un cielo tan fro que tuvo que desgarrarse su monte de Venus y ahogar en sangre y ceniza los cementarios antiguos. Amigo, despierta, que los montes todava no respiran y las hierbas de mi corazn estn en otro sitio. No importa que ests lleno de agua de mar. Yo am mucho tiempo a un nio que tena una plumilla en la lengua y vivimos cien aos dentro de un cuchillo. Despierta. Calla. Escucha. Incorprate un poco. El aullido es una larga lengua morada que deja hormigas de espanto y licor de lirios. Ya viene hacia la roca. No alargues tus races! Se acerca. Gime. No solloces en sueos, amigo. Amigo! Levntate para que oigas aullar al perro asirio.
409

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Landscape With Two Tombs And An Assyrian Dog

Bd: The Leopard Friend: get up and hear the howl of the Assyrian dog. The three nymphs of Cancer have been dancing, my son. They brought mountains of red sealing wax and rough bed sheets where cancer slept. The horse had an eye in its neck and the moon was in a sky so cold that it had to tear open its mound of Venus and drown the old cemeteries in blood and ash. Friend, Wake up, the mountains still arent breathing and the grass of my heart is elsewhere. It doesnt matter that you are full of sea water. I loved a boy for a long time who kept a little feather on his tongue and we lived a hundred years inside a knife. Wake up. Be quiet. Listen. Sit up a little. The howl is a long purple tongue that leaves fearful ants and liquor of irises. Now it approaches the rock. Dont stretch your roots! Come closer. Groan. Dont sob in your dreams, friend. Friend! Get up and hear the howl of the Assyrian dog.
410

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

St Nhn ( Hai ting ni bui sng trn con ng Riverside Drive.)

- Chuyn ny xy ra lm sao? - Mt vt thng trn m. Ch vy thi! Mt ci inh ng lt cn. Mt kim gm m sc vo cho n khi ting r tht ln khng khip. V i dng ngng sng. - Chuyn ny xy ra lm sao? - Nh vy - Thi i. Ch nh vy sao? - Th thi Tri tim t nhin rt ra ngoi. - Tri i!

411

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Asesinato. (Dos voces de madrugada en Riverside Drive)

Cmo fue? Une grieta en la mejilla. Eso es todo! Una ua que aprieta el tallo. Un alfiler que bucea hasta encontrar las raicillas del grito. Y el mar deja de moverse. Cmo, cmo fue? As. Djame! De esa manera? S. El corazn sali solo. Ay, ay de m!

Murder. (Two early morning voices on Riverside Drive)

Bd: The Leopard How did it happen? A cut on the cheek. Thats all! A nail that presses the stem. A pin that dives in until it finds the roots of the scream. And the sea stops moving. How did it happen? Just like that. Stop it! Like that? Yes. The heart came out on its own. Oh my!
412

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

413

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

TNH CA DU MC GYPSY

Ballad Mng Du
Xanh, i, ta yu xanh ti. Gi thanh tn. Cnh l thanh xun. Con tu ra bin, nga v ni cao. Lng eo thon yu iu, trn lan can nng m, thn hnh thanh tn, mi tc thanh xun, i mt lnh lng lp lnh. Xanh, i, ta yu xanh ti. Di nh trng du mc vn vt cun ht theo nng sao nng li h hng. Xanh, i, ta yu xanh ti. Ngi sao ln gi lnh hin hnh bng con c m ng vo bnh minh. Cy Sung xo xc gi, cnh Sung c r ro, con mo hoang trn ni ni gin ng x lng. Ai n? T u n? Nng ch trn lan can thn hnh thanh tn, mi tc thanh xun m i dng khc nghit. - "Bc i, (1) chu xin i, nga chin ly cn nh,
414

Th Federico Garcia Lorca yn cng ly gng soi, thanh kim ly chn gi. Bc i,chu b thng m mu tr v t trn Cabra " (2) - "Chu i, nu c th bc s gip chu ngay nhng bc chng l ai sng khng nh khng ca" - "Bc i, chu mun cht ni y trn ging ring t t, ging st nu c th, tri khn mn m m. Bc c thy vt thng chm t c xung ngc?". - " Ba trm bng hng sm bm o trng tinh. Mu r bc mi tanh ng quanh dy lng tht. Nhng bc chng l ai sng khng nh khng ca" - " Hy cho chu ln cui leo ln lan can cao. chu leo, chu leo! ln lan can xanh sng lan can ca nh trng, ni dng sng go tht". Hai bc chu leo ln lan can cao trn nh. Ko theo dng mu chy. Ko theo dng l ri. Chm chung dng hoa thit (3)
415

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca rung ln trn mi che Ngn ting reng pha l lm bnh minh thng tch. Xanh, i, ta yu xanh ti, gi thanh tn, cnh l thanh xun. Leo cao, hai bc chu. Cn gi mnh thi ngc vo ming mi l thng mt, bc h, hng qu. - "Bc i, nng u? nng khn kh u ri?". - " Bao nhiu ln nng ch i chu! bao nhiu ln v chu phi ch, sui tc en, khun mt bnh thn, trn lan can thanh xun nng m!". Trn ming b cha nc nng gypsy u a. Thn hnh thanh tn, mi tc thanh xun, i mt lnh lng lp lnh. Nh tr bng ta nh trng sng gi nng l lng trn nc trong. m dn dn gn gi thnh mt vng thn thng. V binh say lt kht g mnh p ca nh. Xanh, i, ta yu xanh ti. Gi thanh tn, cnh l thanh xun. Tu ra bin Nga v ni.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

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(1) Compadre trong ting Ty ban Nha l cha u hoc vai ngi ln. (2) Cabra: min tnh trong vng Cordba, Andalusia, pha nam ty Ban Nha. Ni tri qua nhiu chin trn t thi xa nh nhau vi La M v nhng trn chin ni ting trong thi Ni Chin. (3) Farilillos: Canterbury bell: Mt loi hoa Chung ging u Chu.

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

PRIMER ROMANCERO GITANO. 1924-1927.

Romance Sonmbulo
Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montaa. Con la sombra en la cintura ella suea en sus baranda, verde carne, pelo verde, con ojos de fra plata. Verde que te quiero verde. Bajo la luna gitana, las cosas la estn mirando y ella no puede mirarlas. Verde que te quiero verde. Grandes estrellas de escarcha, vienen con el pez de sombra que abre el camino del alba. La higuera frota su viento con la lija de sus ramas, y el monte, gato garduo, eriza sus pitas agrias. Pero quin vendr? Y por dnde...? Ella sigue en su baranda, verde carne, pelo verde, soando en la mar amarga.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca Compadre, quiero cambiar mi 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 morir decentemente en mi cama. De acero, si puede ser, con las sbanas de holanda. No ves la herida que tengo desde el pecho a la garganta? Trescientas rosas morenas lleva tu pechera blanca. Tu sangre rezuma y huele alrededor de tu faja. Pero yo ya no soy yo. Ni mi casa es ya mi casa. Dejadme subir al menos hasta las altas barandas, dejadme subir!, dejadme hasta las verdes barandas. Barandales de la luna por donde retumba el agua. Ya suben los dos compadres hacia las altas barandas. Dejando un rastro de sangre. Dejando un rastro de lgrimas.
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Temblaban en los tejados farolillos de hojalata. Mil panderos de cristal, heran la madrugada. Verde que te quiero verde, verde viento, verdes ramas. Los dos compadres subieron. El largo viento, dejaba en la boca un raro gusto de hiel, de menta y de albahaca. Compadre! Dnde est, dime? Dnde est tu nia amarga? Cuntas veces te esper! Cuntas veces te esperara, cara fresca, negro pelo, en esta verde baranda! Sobre el rostro del aljibe se meca la gitana. Verde carne, pelo verde, con ojos de fra plata. Un carbano de luna la sostiene sobre el agua. La noche se puso ntima como una pequea plaza..

Guardias civiles borrachos en la puerta golpeaban Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca El barco sobre la mar. Y el caballo en la montana.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sleepwalking Ballad
Bn dch: William Logan. Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea and 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 hoar frost 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 die decently 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 thirsty dark brown roses. Your blood oozes and flees a round 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.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca Tin bell vines were 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 cistern the gypsy girl was swinging, green flesh, her hair green, with eyes of cold silver. An icicle of moon holds her up above the water. The night became intimate like a little plaza. Drunken "Guardians 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.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sleepwalking Ballard
Bd: Will Kirkland Green oh how I love you green, Ship on the sea, horse on the mountain. With waist of shadow, she dreams at her rail, green flesh, hair green, ang her eyes, cold silver. Green oh how I love you green. Beneath the gypsy moon things are looking at her, and she can't look at them. Green oh how I love you green. Giant stars of frost come with the shadow-fish that leads the way for dawn. The fig tree chafes its wind with its sandpapered branches, and the mountain, untamed cat, bristles sour maguey spears. But who will come? From where? Still she leans on her rail, green flesh, hair green, dreaming of the bitter sea. " Compadre, I want to trade my stallion for your house, my saddle for your mirror,
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca my knife for your blanket. Compadre, I have come here bleeding, from the Cabra Pass. " " If I could, I would, lad. your offer would be taken. But Iam me no more, nor is my house my own. " " Compadre, I want to die here, decently, im my own bed; of steel, if that can be, with sheets of fine linen. Don't you see this wound that runs from throat to chest?" " Three hundred brown roses cover your white shirt. Blood reeks and oozes all around your sash. But I am me no more, nor is my house my own." " Let me go at least to the high rails of the house. Oh let me go! Let me go up to those rails of green! Great raillings of the moon, where the water roars." Up the two compadres climb, to the high rails of the house, leaving a trail of blood. Leaving a trail of tears. Tiny tin-leaf lanterns were trembling on the tiles.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. A thousand crystal tambourines were wounding dawn's dark sky. Green oh how I love you green, green wind, green boughs. Up the two compadres climbed. The long wind left a strange taste in the mouth of basil, gall, and mint. " Compadre! Tell me, where is she? Where is your bitter girl?" " How often she awaited you! how often did she wait, bright face, black hair, upon this rail of green!" Over the face of the rain-well rocked the gypsy girl. Green flesh, hair green, and her eyes, cold silver. A icicle of moonlight holds her on the water. The night drew in near like a village square. Drunken Civil Guardsmen were beating on the door. Green oh how I love you green. Green wind, green boughs. Ship on the sea. Horse on the mountain.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ballad Ni Mun Phin U Un

Vi g trng va bi va xi nh ang tm kim bui rng ng, theo con dc xui vo m ti khi nng Soledad Montoya tr v. Da nng ng mu ng nu lt ta ra mi hi nga trong m. i v nh thp, cn bc khi rn r ip ca, khc bnh bng. - "Soledad, em ang tm ai qu khuya, sao i mt mnh?" - " Em ang tm ngi em mun gp hi lm g, khng mc m anh? em n v em phi n tm hnh phc ri tm chnh em" - "Soledad m ta tng thng tic nh nga hoang xa sng chung chy tn cng n ni b bin ri vi chn vo sng ngn khi". - " ng nhc, ng nhc ti bin, cho nim au u ut ny mm qua cnh ng qua rng -Liu di cy l ang rung xo xc.". - " Soledad, em bun chuyn g vy Phin mun ra sao! ti nghip cha! Em ang khc v thng nm ch i l nh chanh chua ng ht b mi.". - " au kh lm, nh in nh di chy khp nh, em chy n au,

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca ko tc bm trn sn l lt, t phng ng ra ti phng n. i, khn kh! xui sao tn mng vn vy ln nhn li tht da ka, qun o lt vi lanh rt mn! ka, i thon nh hoa phin r m." - " Soledad, em hy mau i tm ngm thn vo nc sch vui a ri hy con tim bnh thn con tim an lnh hi Soledad Montoya." Dng sng s ca ht: nhng chic l bay ln tri cao. nh sng mi t mnh chc tng t ng quang vng hoa B Ng. i, mun phin ca dn du mc! Ni mun phin trong sng vi c n i, mun phin t dng sng n mt v m en ch i bui rng ng!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

426

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Romance de La Pena Negra

Las piquetas de los gallos cavan buscando la aurora, cuando por el monte oscuro baja Soledad Montoya. Cobre amarillo, su carne, huele a caballo y a sombra. Yunques ahumados sus pechos, gimen canciones redondas. Soledad, por quin preguntas sin compaa y a estas horas? Pregunte por quien pregunte, dime: a ti qu se te importa? Vengo a buscar lo que busco, mi alegra y mi persona. Soledad de mis pesares, caballo que se desboca, al fin encuentra la mar y se lo tragan las olas. No me recuerdes el mar, que la pena negra, brota en las tierras de aceituna bajo el rumor de las hojas. Soledad, qu pena tienes! Qu pena tan lastimosa! Lloras zumo de limn agrio de espera y de boca. Qu pena tan grande! Corro mi casa como una loca,

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

mis dos trenzas por el suelo, de la cocina a la alcoba. Qu pena! Me estoy poniendo de azabache carne y ropa. Ay, mis camisas de hilo! Ay, mis muslos de amapola! Soledad: lava tu cuerpo con agua de las alondras, y deja tu corazn en paz, Soledad Montoya. Por abajo canta el ro: volante de cielo y hojas. Con flores de calabaza, la nueva luz se corona. Oh pena de los gitanos! Pena limpia y siempre sola. Oh pena de cauce oculto y madrugada remota!

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. my two braids trailing on the floor, from the kitchen to the bedroom. What sorrow! I show clothes and flesh made of jet. Ay, my linen shifts! Ay, my thighs of poppy! Soledad: bathe your body with the skylarks water and let your heart be at peace, Soledad Montoya. Down below the river sings: flight of sky and leaves. The new light crowns itself with pumpkin flowers. O sorrow of the gypsies! Sorrow, pure and always lonely. Oh sorrow of the dark river-bed and the far dawn!

Ballad of The Black Sorrow

B.d: A.S.Kline The beaks of cockerels dig, searching for the dawn, when down the dark hill comes Soledad Montoya. Her skin of yellow copper smells of horse and shadow. Her breasts, like smoky anvils, howl round-songs. Soledad, who do you ask for alone, at this hour? I ask for who I ask for, say, what is it to you? I come seeking what I seek, my happiness and my self. Soledad of my regrets, the mare that runs away meets the sea at last and is swallowed by the waves. Dont recall the sea to me for black sorrow wells in the lands of olive-trees beneath the murmur of leaves. Soledad, what sorrow you have! What sorrow, so pitiful! You cry lemon juice sour from waiting, and your lips. What sorrow, so great! I run through my house like a madwoman,

Ballad of Black Pain

B d: Will Kirkland. Roosters bury their picks looking for dawn, when down the darkened hillside Soledad Montoya comes. She smells of horse and shadow, her skin is yellow copper. Her breasts like smoke-dark anvils moan in circle songs. - " Soledad, who do you want,
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca so late and so alone?". - " I want the one I want, so, what is it to you? I came for what I came for my happiness, my person". - " Soledad of all my sorrows a bolting horse always finds the sea and is swallowed in the waves". - " Don't remind me of the sea, for black pain thrustd its shoots. through the lands of olive trees, beneath the rustling leaves.". - " Soledad, what pain you bear! What grievous pain! You are crying lemon juice of bitter waiting, bitter lips.". - " What aching pain! All through the house I race, insane. I drag my braids across the floor from the kitchen to the bedroom, What pain! As black as jet I turn, from dress to skin! Ay, my linen underthighs! Ay, poppy of my thighs - " Soledad, go bathe your body in the water of the larks, and give your heart a rest, Soledad Montoya". The river sings below: lace of leaves and sky. New light crowns itself

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. t ng quang vng hoa B Ng. i, mun phin ca dn du mc! Ni mun phin trong sng vi c n i, mun phin t dng sng n mt v m en ch i bui rng ng!

Ballad of Black Dread

Bd: Zachary Jean Chartkoff Frenetic axes of cocks digging in search of the dawn when down from the dark foothills comes Soledad Montoya. Yellow copper of her flesh smelling of horses and murk. Smoky anvils of her breasts, wailing out rounded songs. "Soledad, who are you calling for, all alone, at this hour?" "Do not worry who it is, what is this to you, anyway? I want whatever I want, my body and my joy." "Soledad, dreadful one, the stallion that runs free finds at last the sea only to be swallowed by the waves." "Do not speak to me of the sea, for the black dread surges out from the land of the olive tree, under the rustling of its leaves." "Soledad, what anguish you have
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca what horrendous pain! You wail lemon juice, bitter from the lips with longing." "Ai, what anguish! I drift around my house, from kitchen to bedroom, my braids undone, on the floor. Ai, what terror! My clothes and flesh are fading into black. Ai, my linen nightgowns! Ai, my poppy thighs!" "Soledad, wash your body in skylark water.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Let peace into your heart, Soledad Montoya." Downhill the river sings: mantle of leaves and sky. The new light is crowned in wild pumpkin flowers. Ai, the pain! Pain of the gypsies, clean pain from a hidden stream and from the endless dawn!

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ballad V Binh Ty Ban Nha

n nga en. Mng nga en. Trn khn chong lp long vt mc v sp loang. n nga khng bit khc v u bc gip ch. Vi hn bc da th nga ln ng trng phi. m m g lng phng cm lng xuyn bng en v nga i khp chn ngi ngng p ct mm. Nga phi nga phi mi du kn trong tm t o nh mt cy sng nh nh mnh m h. , ph dn du mc! Bng rn treo gc ng. Mt trng v b ng, c anh o lm mt. , ph dn du mc! Ai tng thy lm sao dm qun? Ph x hng vi bao khn kh, v thp cao cha y qu thm. Khi m dn dn xung mt m rt l m dn Gypsy vo l rn v kh mi bn mt tri v mi tn.
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca Con nga chin b thng trm trng v ni xin g khp ca nh. G trng thy tinh ln ting gy Jerez de la Frontera. (*) Ngn gi va thi ngc chuyn hng gy ngc nhin trong m sng ng nh mt m tht l m. Virgin v St. Joseph va mt b nhc g (**) mun nh dn Gypsy tm li b nhc c. B Virgin bc vo y phc ging b th trng chi nh giy gi s-c-la xu chui eo c y qu Hnh. ng St, Joseph ma tay ht khn chong bng la. Theo sau l pedro Domecq dn ba ngi Ba T hi gio. Trng bn nguyt m mng by c m ngy ngt. Ri n sng c bay gy ch sn thng. V n khng lc mng than th tng gng soi. Nc v bng, bng v nc Jerez de la frontera. , ph dn du mc! Bng rn treo gc ng. Hy m n xanh ln
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca on V Binh sp n. , ph dn du mc! Ai tng thy lm sao dm qun? Hy nng y xa b bin khng lc ci gi tc thi bay. H snh vai ci nga vo ph ang lin hoan. Dy cy trng sinh rung ln xo xc lm xn xao dy eo n trn lng. H snh vai hai hng ci nga. m hai hng mu o chin chinh. H m tng mt bu tri lng iu ting giy inh thc nga din hnh. Thnh ph ht s hi, m trm ca n cho Bn mi v binh n cp bc trong mu toan. ng h nh ngng li nhiu chai ru C-nhc nh l thng Mi Mt ha trang khng ai ng, khng ai c th ng. Mt ting tht bay cao nghe t chong chng gi. Cnh qut cht gi au ting rn t qut h. m ph n Gypsy chy trn khp no ng, vi by nga hn lon, vi nhng hp tin km. Leo ln ng dc su
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca nhng o chong khn kh b li pha sau lng gi cun theo st pht. Ni mng la Bethlehem dn du mc dn nhau tr n. St. Joseph b thng rt nng nm trn tay thiu n ph khn. Sng vn n vang sut m. B Virgin tr thng con tr bng nc di ca sao trn tri. Ngoi kia, v binh ang tin ti ting n rn vang bn n ni c th tng tng chy cht bit bao ngi. Rosa, dn Camborio trc ca nh ngi khc bng i v trn trn chic mm. Nhng c khc ang chy tc bay ngc sau lng sc hi tung n n thuc sng tr hoa hng. Khi tt c ngi trn mi nh ri xung t ch cn nc trng. Rng ng gng ko trn i vai mt bng ln hnh ni . i, ph dn du mc! m v binh b i qua con ng lng l
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca la vn chy xung quanh. i, ph dn du mc! Ai tng thy s khng dm qun? Sau trn ta ngi i sau tm li (3) bi kch khc su ca ct v trng.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(1) Jerez de la Frontera l thnh ph tnh Andalusia, Ty Ban Nha (2) Castanet: l b g, dng trong nhc dn tc Tay ban Nha. C bi th ring trang 129. (3) cu ny c th hiu: T tr nh ta ngi i sau tm li.

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Romance de La Guardia Civil Espanola

Los caballos negros son. Las herraduras son negras. Sobre las capas relucen manchas de tinta y de cera. Tienen, por eso no lloran, de plomo las calaveras. Con el alma de charol vienen por la carretera. Jorobados y nocturnos, por donde animan ordenan silencios de goma oscura y miedos de fina arena. Pasan, si quieren pasar, y ocultan en la cabeza una vaga astronoma de pistolas inconcretas. Oh ciudad de los gitanos! En las esquinas, banderas. La luna y la calabaza con las guindas en conserva. Oh ciudad de los gitanos! Quin te vio y no te recuerda? Ciudad de dolor y almizcle, con las torres de canela. Cuando llegaba la noche, noche que noche nochera, los gitanos en sus fraguas forjaban soles y flechas.
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Un caballo malherido llamaba a todas las puertas. Gallos de vidrio cantaban por Jerez de la Frontera. El viento vuelve desnudo la esquina de la sorpresa, en la noche platinoche, noche que noche nochera. La Virgen y San Jos perdieron sus castauelas, y buscan a los gitanos para ver si las encuentran. La virgen viene vestida con un traje de alcaldesa, de papel de chocolate con los collares de almendras. San Jos mueve los brazos bajo una capa de seda. Detrs va Pedro Domecq con tes sultanes de Persia. La media luna soaba un xtasis de cigea. Estandartes y faroles invaden las azoteas. Por los espejos sollozan bailarinas sin caderas. Agua y sombra, sombra y agua por Jerez de la Frontera. Oh ciudad de los gitanos! En las esquinas, banderas.
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca Apaga tus verdes luces que viene la benemrita. Oh ciudad de los gitanos! Quin te vio y no te recuerda? Dejadla lejos del mar, sin peines para sus crenchas. Avanzan de dos en fondo a la ciudad de la fiesta. Un rumor de siemprevivas invade las cartucheras. Avanzan de dos en fondo. Doble nocturno de tela. El cielo, se les antoja una vitrina de espuelas. La ciudad, libre de miedo, multiplicaba sus puertas. Cuarenta guardias civiles entran a saco por ellas. Los relojes se pararon, y el coac de las botellas se disfraz de noviembre para no infundir sospechas. Un vuelo de gritos largos se levant en las veletas. Los sables cortan las brisas que los cascos atropellan. Por las calles de penumbra huyen las gitanas viejas con los caballos dormidos y las orzas de monedas.
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Por las calles empinadas suben las capas siniestras, dejando detrs fugaces remolinos de tijeras. En el portal de Beln los gitanos se congregan. San Jos, lleno de heridas, amortaja a una doncella. Tercos fusiles agudos por toda la noche suenan. La Virgen cura a los nios con salivilla de estrella. Pero la Guardia Civil avanza sembrando hogueras, donde joven y desnuda la imaginacin se quema. Rosa la de los Camborios gime sentada en su puerta con sus dos pechos cortados puestos en una bandeja. Y otras muchachas corran perseguidas por sus trenzas, en, un aire donde estallan rosas de plvora negra. Cuando todos los tejados eran surcos en la tierra. el alba meci sus hombros en largo perfil de piedra. Oh, ciudad de los gitanos! La Guardia Civil se aleja
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca por un tnel de silencio mientras las llamas te cercan. Oh, ciudad de los gitanos! Quien te vio y no te recuerda? Que te busquen en mi frente. Juego de luna y arena.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ballad of The Spanish Civil Guard

Bd: A. S. Kline. The horses are black. The horseshoes are black. Stains of ink and wax shine on their capes. They have leaden skulls so they do not cry. With souls of leather they ride down the road. Hunchbacked and nocturnal wherever they move, they command silences of dark rubber and fears of fine sand. They pass, if they wish to pass, and hidden in their heads is a vague astronomy of indefinite pistols. Oh city of the gypsies! Banners on street-corners. The moon and the pumpkin with preserved cherries. Oh city of the gypsies! Who could see you and not remember? City of sorrow and musk, with towers of cinnamon. When night came near, night that night deepened,

the gypsies at their forges beat out suns and arrows. A badly wounded stallion knocked against all the doors. Roosters of glass were crowing through Jerez de la Frontera. Naked the wind turns the corner of surprise, in the night silver-night night the night deepened. The Virgin and Saint Joseph have lost their castanets, and search for the gypsies to see if they can find them. The Virgin comes draped in the mayoresss dress, of chocolate papers with necklaces of almonds. Saint Joseph swings his arms under a cloak of silk. Behind comes Pedro Domecq with three sultans of Persia. The half moon dreamed an ecstasy of storks. Banners and lanterns invaded the flat roofs. Through the mirrors wept ballerinas without hips. Water and shadow, shadow and water through Jerez de la Frontera.
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14. that the hooves trampled. Along the streets of shadow old gypsy women ran, with the drowsy horses, and the jars of coins. Through the steep streets sinister cloaks climb, leaving behind them whirlwinds of scissors. When all the roofs were furrows in the earth the dawn heaved its shoulders in a vast silhouette of stone. O city of the gypsies! The Civil Guard depart through a tunnel of silence while flames surround you. O city of the gypsies! Who could see you and not remember? Let them find you on my forehead: a play of moon and sand. At a gate to Bethlehem the gypsies congregate. Saint Joseph, wounded everywhere, shrouds a young girl. Stubborn rifles crack sounding in the night. The Virgin heals children with spittle from a star.
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Oh city of the gypsies! Banners on street-corners. Quench your green lamps the worthies are coming. Oh city of the gypsies! Who could see you and not remember? Leave her far from the sea without combs in her hair. They ride two abreast towards the festive city. A murmur of immortelles invades the cartridge-belts. They ride two abreast. A doubled nocturne of cloth. They fancy the sky to be a showcase for spurs. The city, free from fear, multiplied its doors. Forty civil guards enter them to plunder. The clocks came to a halt, and the cognac in the bottles disguised itself as November so as not to raise suspicion. A flight of intense shrieks rose from the weathercocks. The sabres chopped at the breezes

Th Federico Garcia Lorca But the Civil Guard advance, sowing flames, where young and naked imagination is burnt out. Rosa of the Camborios moans in her doorway, with her two severed breasts lying on a tray. And other girls ran chased by their tresses through air where roses of black gunpowder burst.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. of phantasmagoric pistols. Oh city of the gypsies! Corners hung with banners. The moon and pumpkins, and cherries in preserve. Oh city of the gypsies! Who could see and not remember you? City of musk and sorrow, city of cinnamon towers. As the night was coming, the night so nightly night, the gypsies at their forges were shaping suns and arrows. A badly wounded stallion knocked at every door. Glass roosters were singing in Jerez de la Frontera. The naked wind turns the conner of surprise, in the night silvernight, the night so nightly night. The Virgin and St. Joseph have lost their castanets, and are looking for the Gypsies to see if they can find them. Here comes the Virgin, dressed just like a mayor's wife, in silver chocolate foil with necklaces of almonds.
444

Ballard of The Spanish Civil Guard

Bd: Will Kirland Black are the horses, the horseshoes are black. Glistening on their capes are stains of ink and wax. Their skull - and this is why they do not cry - are cast in lead. They ride the roads with souls of patent leather. Hunchbacked and nocturnal, they command, where they appear, the silence of dark rubber and fears of fine sand. They go as they will, and hidden in their heads is a vague astronomy

Th Federico Garcia Lorca St. Joseph swings his arms beneath a cape of silk. Behind them comes Pedro Domecq and three Persian sultans. The half moon was dreaming an ecstasy of storks. And streamers and lamps took over terraced roofs. A dancer without hips sobbed in every mirror. Water and shadow, shadow and water in Jerez de la Frontera. Oh city of the gypsies! Corners hung with banners, Put your green lights out: the Civil Guard is coming. Oh city of the gypsies! Who could see and not remember you? Let her be, far from the sea, with no combs to hold her hair. They are riding two abreast to the celebrating city. The murmur of everlastings invades their cartridge belts. They are riding two abreast. A night of doubled serge. The sky, they like to fancy, is a showcase full of spurs. The city, free of fear, was multiplying doors.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Forty Civil Guardsmen pour through to sack and burn. The clocks came to a stop and the brandy bottles masqueraded as November so as not to stir suspicions. A flight of long screams rose from the weathercocks. Sabers slash at winds trampled under hoof. Through the half-lit streets old gypsy women flees with their sleepy horses and enormous jars of coins. Up the steep streets climb the sinister capes, leaving behind them brief whirlwinds of shears. In the manger of Bethlehem all the gypsies gather. St. Joseph, badly wounded, lays a shroud upon a girl. Sharp and stubborn, rifles crackle in the night. The Virgin mends the children with saliva from a star. But the Civil Guard advances, sowing giant fires, where, young and naked, imagination burns. Rosa, the Camborio,
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca sits moaning at her door with her severed breasts before her on a tray. Other girls were running chased by their braids, in a wind exploding with roses of black powder. When all the title roofs were furrow in the earth, dawn heaved its shoulders in a sihouette of stone. Oh city of the gypsies! The Civil Guardsmen ride away through a tunnel of silence while the flames encircle you. Oh city of the gypsies! Who could see you and not remember you? Let them find you on my brow play of sand and moon.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. They ride the highways with patent leather souls. Hunchbacked and nocturnal, they ride forth and command the silences of dark rubber and the fears like fine sand. They go where they want, and hide in their skulls vague astronomical ideas, amorphous pistols. Ai, city of gypsies! Corners hung with colors. The moon and pumpkins and cherries in sweet preserve. Ai, city of gypsies! Who could see you and not recall? City of musks and agony, city of cinnamon towers. As the night was approaching the night so deep, dark, nightish, the gypsies at their forges were hammering suns and arrows. A deeply wounded stallion knocked at each door. Glass cocks were crowing in Jerez de la Frontera. The naked wind, turning in the silver night, around the corner with surprise, in the night so deep, dark, nightish.

Ballad of The Spanish Civil Guard

Bd: Zachary Jean Chartkoff. Black are the horses, their horses are shod in black. On their capes glitter stains of ink and wax. This is why they do not weep: their skulls are cut in lead.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca The Virgin and Saint Joseph have lost their castanets. They are looking for the gypsies to see if they can help find them. Here comes the Virgin, dressed just like the mayor's wife in silvery chocolate paper, with a necklace of almonds. Saint Joseph swings his arms beneath a cloak of silk. Behind comes Pedro Domecq and three Persian sultans. The half moon dreamed out an ecstasy of the stork. And ensigns and lanterns stormed the roof tiles. Hipless dancers sob in every mirror. Water and shadow, shadow and water in Jerez de la Frontera. Ai, city of gypsies! Corners hung with colors. Quell your green lights: for here come the Civil Guard. Ai, city of gypsies! Who could see you and not recall? Let her be, far from the sea, with no combs to hold back her hair. To the celebrated city they ride two abreast. The gossip of the everlasting

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. invades their cartridge belts. They ride two abreast. A night of twin shadows in cloth. The sky, they conclude, a window full of spurs. The city, unsuspicious, unfolding its doors. 40 Civil Guards, to sack and burn, poured through. The clocks stopped and the brandy bottles impersonated November so as not to stir any suspicion. Up rose from the weathercocks a series of long screams. Sabers slashed the air, trampling under black horse hoof. Old gypsy women tried to flee through the half-lit streets with their benumbed horses and enormous crocks of coins. Up the palisade streets climbed the sinister capes leaving behind brief whirlwinds of scissors. In the gate of Bethlehem all the gypsies gathered. Saint Joseph, mortally wounded, laid a shroud upon a girl. Sharp and stubborn, rifle bursts rang through the night. The Virgin healed children with spit from a fallen star.
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca But the Civil Guard advances, starting cruel fires where the naked hope of youth burns. Rosa, the Comborio, sits keening at her door with her mutilated breasts before her on a tray. Other girls run in horror, pursued by their trailing braids, in a wind exploding with the roses of black gunpowder. When all the tiled roofs have been laid as furrows in the earth, dawn rocked its shoulders about in a long silhouette of stone. Ai, city of gypsies! The Civil Guard saunters away through a tunnel of silence leaving you in flames. Ai, city of gypsies! Who could see you and not recall? Let them find you on my deep brow: blazon of sand and moon.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. stains of ink and of wax. Their skulls are leaden, wich is why they dont weep. With their patent-leather souls they come down the street. Hunchbacked and nocturnal, where they go, they command silences of dark rubber and fears like fine sand. They pass where they want, and they hide in their skulls a vague astronomy of shapeless pistols. Oh, city of gypsies! Your corners hung with banners. The moon and the pumpkin with mazard berries preserved. Oh, city of gypsies! Who could see you and forget? City of musk and sorrow, with your cinnamon towers. And at the fall of night, the night benighted by nightfall, the gypsies within their smithies were forging suns and arrows. A badly wounded stallion was knocking at all the doors. Near Jerez de la Frontera, loud crowed the cocks of crystal! Naked, the wind turns the corner of the surprise

Ballad of The Spanish Civil Guard

Bd: A. L. Lloyd Black are the horses. The horseshoes are black. On the dark capes glisten

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca in the silver-dark night the night benighted by nightfall. The Virgin and St. Joseph have lost their castanets, and they search for the gypsies to see if they have found them. The Virgin comes dressed in the robe of a Mayoress made of chocolate paper with an almond necklace. St. Joseph moves his arms under a silken cloak. And, with three sultans of Persia, behind marches Pedro Domecq. The half-moon was dreaming the ecstasy of a crane. Standards and street-lamps invade the flat roofs. Dancers without hips are sobbing in the mirrors. Water and shadow, shadow and water by Jerez de la Frontera. Oh, city of gypsies! Your corners decked with banners. Put out your green lights, the Civil Guard is coming! Oh, city of gypsies! Who could see you and forget? (Leave her far from the sea with no combs for her hairdress.)

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. They ride in double file towards the festive streets, the rustle of everlastings invades their cartridge belts. They ride in ranks of two, a double nocturne in serge. The sky, so they fancy, is a show-case of spurs. The city, free from fear, multiplied its doors. Forty Civil Guards took them by storm. The clocks ceased to strike and the bottles of brandy, to arouse no suspicion, wore the mask of November. Among the weathervanes rose a flight of long screams. The sabres cut the breeze that the hooves trampled on. Along the streets of shadow old gypsy women run with their somnolent horses and their jars full of coins. And up the steep streets the sinister capes fleer, leaving behind them swift whirlwinds of shears. The gypsies are all gathered by the Bethlehem gate. St. Joseph, full of wounds,
449

Th Federico Garcia Lorca enshrouds a young maid. Stubborn and sharp, the guns clatter the whole night through, while the Virgin is healing children with drops of star spume. But the Guardia Civil comes scattering fires by which, young and naked, the imagination is seared. Rosa of the Camborios sits moaning by her door. Her two breasts, cut off, are lying on a tray. And other girls flee, pursued by their braids, through the air in which roses

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. of black powder are bursting. When all the tile roofs were but furrows in the soil, the dawn shrugged her shoulders in a long stony profile. Oh, city of gypsies! The Civil Guard rides away through a tunnel of silence, while around you are flames. Oh, city of gypsies! Who could see you and forget? Let them seek you on my brow. The play of moon and sand.

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tranh V Federico Garcia Lorca

Tuyn t gp nht.

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Poet in New York

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Federico v Salvador Dali

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

2. Federico Garcia Lorca: C Cu v Tc Phm.

Ng lc trong th ca va l phng tin va l d liu xy dng mt bi th. Khc vi mt tc phm kin trc, thng c k hoch, bn v, dn dng trc khi bt tay sng tc. C cu ca mt bi th thnh hnh mt cch t nhin. Cho d l nhng trng thi hoc kch th, nhng dn dng trc thng thng s b thay i ty vo sng to v hng khi. Khi tc phm thnh hnh, a s vc dng v ni dung khc vi hnh nh lc ban u. Mt bi th thng thng s do sng to v ngu hng dn a to ra cu trc. V vy, cu trc, ng lc v sng to, gi chung l c cu, s l b mt v b su ca vn bn tm hiu th. Ni nm na l c th vi thc c th. C cu ca mt bi th l ch ngha, hnh th bn ngoi v t, thn hn bn trong v cch sinh hot ca ton th. Sinh hot l do sng to lm nn sng tc. C cu ca mt bi th bt u bng phn xng tht ca ngn ng v nh tng ca t th. Ngn ng v t th xy dng thnh cu trc ca bi th. ngha v tnh t nm trong cu trc ca bi th v phn cm nhn t hoc ngoi vn bn l lin tng, tng tng v trc gic. Khi c xong mt bi th, cm nhn nh th no l do trnh v kinh nghim c th. Nu mt bi th khin cho ngi c phi c li. Mi ln c c cm nhn khc hn, su rng hn, bi th cho ngi c mt tn hiu l bi th c gi tr. t nht l gi tr i vi ngi ang c. Ti sao ch c mt ln? Ti sao li c nhiu ln? Ti sao c xong thy khoan khoi, cm nhn thch th? Cu hi u tin c cu tr li: Bi th bnh thng. c xong hiu ht. Cm sc lin tay. Mt ln l . C c li, cng ch hiu v cm nh vy thi. Gi tr ca THNG nm trong ngh thut din t th. a phn, ngi c bt gp loi th ny trong dng ph thng. Cu hi th hai c cu tr li: Gi tr ca THM. c mt ln, cm nhn m m. Bit mnh cha r. c thm, c ngm ngh. C khi c tra cu. Mi ln s lm bi th sng hn, r hn v ngha hn.

471

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cu hi th ba c cu tr li thuc v gi tr ca THU. Cu th thu, bi th thu l ngh thut d b xem thng nu ch din t nhng kinh nghim v trc gic bnh dn. Nhng cu th thu, bi th thu ng ngha s lm cho ngi c bng hong, khng th chi ci ci ngha, ci tnh t, ci tm s m h cng c, kinh qua, chng kin, hiu bit m khng th din t mt cch th nh vy. Th ca Federico Garcia Lorca t tc phm Poeta En Nueva York tr i, cn c mt hng nhn ton th theo C Cu Cm (qua c cu m cm nhn), mi c th tn hng gi tr v tinh ty ca th Lorca. C cu cm khc vi c cu lun ch: LUN nh con a c gi qua bn kia b. CM l hng th tri my ma nng ang khi trn qua sng. V ng no, cng n bn kia. C cu chnh ca th Lorca biu hin qua s pht trin t tng trng n nh cao ca siu thc ri tin vo ci ha ng vi chnh bn gc dn tc v bn sc ca ng. Hu nh ton b thi ca ca Lorca u dp du vi nhc iu. ng s dng nhng th th c truyn cho d khng tn trng hon ton nhng qui tc. ng s dng nhng iu ng, nhng th ht bnh dn. T bn cht ny, ngi c cm c tnh dn tc ca ng len li v lin kt nhng iu ng vit. Hin r nht l trong tp th Poeta en Nueva York, ng li vit "t ng" dn a cu c to ra hnh th v ni dung th ca bi th Siu Thc. Tp th Poeta en Nueva York cha ng nhng bi th m ng pht huy nhit huyt cng nh kh nng siu thc qua nhng k thut ca phi Siu Thc ang thnh hnh lc ng thi. Mi c mt on th Lorca trong bi Danza de la Muerte, Nhy Ma vi Ni Cht, trong tp th Poet en Nueva York: Mt n. Hy nhn xem, lm sao mt n t Phi Chu tm n New York. bin mt, hng cy H Tiu, nhng n hoa pht-pho nh b (1). bin mt, nhng lc tn t, v lng sng ni thin nga ngng m cao. Thi kh hn, bng la mc trong mt, con mo b cn mng, thi i khng hong, nhng chic cu rt r v nim cht lng ca nt chai.
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th vt cht by by cht ng bi nh sng nh li gm m qua. Nim vui v tn n h m vi chn hai mng y tro v n linh dng c hoa cc trng sinh mc trong c. Trong ho a, c n im lm, chic mt n mo m nhy ma. Mt na a cu l ct mt na kia thy ngn v nng tim tng. Mt n. Hy nhn thng mt n! Ct, c su, v s hi trn thnh ph New York. ..................... Ngi c thy ngay s i thay ca Lorca trong cch din t th so vi nhng tp th trc. Vi nhng bc xc v i sng my mc vn minh, chng kin cnh thm hi sau khi th trng chng khon New York sp , th thi nhn tnh phc tp dn dp cm xc ca ng nn nhng dng ch c tun ra phng phng, nhng bi th di ngon kh hiu, hu nh khng th hiu mt cch t nhin. Thi s i tm th nhng th n bt cht. Thi s ch i th v th xut hin khng hn trc. Ngh thut cn bn ca phi Siu Thc l Vit-t-ng. Th no l Vit-t-ng? Ni khc hn l Sng tc t ng. Khi gii thch theo li khoa bng, thng ch trng n cm t gic m v v thc. Chng c ai vit t gic m. H ang ng. Thc dy a s gic m u b lng qun. Nhng gic m cn, tc l m lc gn thc tnh, l nhng gic m cn st li trong tr nh. Nhng din bin v l lun, v thc t, nhng ngha bin ha phi l v v ngha trong gic m l k thut c s dng trong phi Siu Thc. Nhng rt ro chnh l gi tr ca gic m c nhng nh ni tm hc phn tch l gii. Tm l hc ca Sigmun Freud v phn tm hc ca Carl Jung cho ngi ngh s ca thi i mt ci nhn xuyn qua hin thc, i su vo hin hu cm c th gii v hnh sau lng i sng hng ngy. Ci gi l v thc. i u gp v thc? Bng cch no? Thi min chng? Nu ch vit bng v thc th chc chc s ton l nhng cu c lon x, t hn n. Cho d bc vo cnh gii thin, cng c ci "v lun l" ca thin. Vy th sng tc t ng l sng tc ra sao?

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Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ci thc v ci v thc tip gip vi nhau trong con ngi nh th no khng ai r nhng con ngi bit rng c. Xut thn l mt trng thi t thc i vo v thc. Xut thn nu khng theo ngha o gio, th chng c ai c th xut thn lu c. Nu xut thn di hn, khng chng l nhng ngi mt tr. C l nn dng mt cm t khc b ngha cho xut thn, l say m cao , khng cn n xung quanh, qun khng gian qun c thi gian. Sng tc t ng l sng tc vo lc tc gi say m, chp chn gia thc v m. Lc ra lc vo trong chm ngp hnh nh ch ngha tng cm xc. Lc vo cn say cn, lc vo cn say su. Trng thi chp chn cho php thc ng mt vai tr "thng dch" nhng hn lon, phi l, v ngha t v thc a ra trong nhng lc chm vo chim bao m vn thc. Nhng g t v thc chuyn ra c thc thng dch vo cu c. Thng dch c ngha l lm cho tc gi hiu c m khng sai , trt ngha ca v thc. D thng dch gii cch my cng v phng din t nhng iu "thn b" ca v thc. Do , vn chng Siu Thc rt kh hiu, kh cm nhng khng phi l hon ton khng th hiu, khng th cm. Trong nhng li sng tc khc, thng thng thc gia vai tr ch yu. thc hng dn v dn dng. Cho d cm xc tung tro, ch ngha vn theo mt l li sn c. Nht l hnh nh, t c thc trnh by tc gi t nhn thc c. T vit ra v ngi c s hiu c v s cm c. Trong Siu Thc, thc ng vai ph nhng phi c. Mt phn tnh ba phn m, thc ch ghi li nhng hnh nh, t, t tng, ngn ng t v thc theo cm xc v theo cch "thng dch" ring. S phi hp ny t ng to ra cu c, cu trc v hnh th bi th. i vi ngi c, bi th cng nng phn v thc cng kh hiu. Nhiu khi khng cn phi hiu vn cm c. Nhng cm i lc kh ng v c th cm thp Eiffel thnh Kim t thp. Nhng cng chng sao, min l thp. ng lm vi sng. Th Lorca khi nhp vo Siu Thc trong giai on sng New York l thi k en ti trong tm tnh v t tng. Khi tr v li Ty Ban Nha v sng tc nhng tp th tip theo nh Divn del Tamarit, Trng K Tamarit v Llanto por Ignacio Snchez Mejas, iu Ca cho Ignacio Sanchez Mejias, s bng n ca siu thc du li nhng phn su thm ca tm linh li gia tng. Cho d nhng bi th trong Trng K Tamarit l nhng bi th c m iu ca th th c truyn nhng ngn ng v t vn l siu thc. Thm vo, v th th c qui tc, iu lut nn th siu thc ca ng c ng hn to ra nhiu lp b su, tng thm phn kh hiu. Nh:

Casida: B cu en
Qua tng cy Nguyt Qu thy i b cu en.
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca Mt con l mt tri mt con l mt trng. Ti hi, ny hng xm m phn ti u? Tri ni, m chn sau ui. Trng ni, m chn trong c. Ti ang i eo trn gian quanh tht lng thy i diu hu trng tuyt v thiu n trn trung. Chim ny l chim kia thiu n khng ging chim no. Ti hi, diu hu nh m phn ti u? Tri ni, m chn sau ui. Trng ni, m chn trong c. Qua tng cy Nguyt Qu i b cu trn trung. Chim ny l chim kia c hai u khng phi. (4)

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

V mt bi th trong tuyn tp Sonetos del Amor Oscuro, Tiu Khc Tnh Yu U Ut:

Thng Tch Tnh

Sng la la t thiu anh cnh nhn m m chung quanh nh ngi tng t m nh su i kh au t t ln tri theo thi gian. Mu bun ta thn cung n
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca trn cy Cm iu lng cm gi tnh bin si ng v trong mnh con b cp cn v hnh trong tim. Vng hoa, ngi bnh nm im m trong thao thc em tm n thm vo tan nt gia thm tm. Cho d c trnh l lm tim em c dc thm trm lng su lm m thn tr kh su. (5)

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Trong c cu ca mt bi th, ngn ng, th th, t, cu trc t vn bn, ngi c c th nm bt c, cho d l tng i. Phn kh nht, phc tp v cng l phn sinh hot ca th gii th trong mt bi th. Kh nng sng to v cm xc ca tc gi to ra s sinh hot ca cc chi tit v ton th bi th. Sinh hot ny mnh hay yu, cao hay thp, si ng hay thm trm, nhanh hay chm, t lp hoc bc chc, xut sc hay bnh thng, lp d hay mi l...v..v... chnh l bn lnh v ti nng ca thi s. Sinh hot trong th gii th l mt loi sinh hot ca cht trng trong b c, c nhim v c cu ha cht xm lm vic vi thn kinh, nng lng, c bp v tm tnh trong th gii con ngi. Nhng nhn qua gc ca tm l, sinh hot hng ngy ca con ngi b s chi phi v hnh nhng y hiu nng ca v thc. y cng l im mu cht trong sng tc th bng thc hoc bng v thc. Nhng cu trc lin h chng cht hng ngang v lin h phc tp hng dc ca ngn ng, t, cm xc trong mt bi th l do nhng chi tit sinh hot vi nhau, to thnh, di quyn sng to "thng " ca thc v v thc. Sinh hot trong th gii th c thin hnh vn trng. Sinh hot th trong mt bi th l sinh hot ring t ca mt thi s trong mt thi-gian-th c th v mt ng c cm xc no . Sinh hot ny mang nhng quan st, nhn thy t hin thc vo trong tm t to ra th gii ring ca mt bi th. Mt v d c th, l phim hot ha Disney v Aladin v cy n thn. Nhn vt ni ting c gii tr hm m trong gii bng r l Shaquille O'Neal, c a vo mt truyn thuyt cy n thn. ng thn n chnh l hnh nh v ting ni trm trm ca O'Neal. ng thn n t mt nhn vt hin thc nhng sng trong th gii o ca c tch Ba T. Hy theo di on th di y ca Lorca.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca Vi sinh hot tuyn chn trong th Federico Garcia Lorca: Tan, tan Quin es? El Otono otra vez, Qu quiere de m? El frescor de tu sien. No te lo quiero dar. Yo te lo quitar. Tan, tan. Quin es? El Ontono otra vez. (Trch Dos Normas) Cc, cc. Ai vy? Ma thu tr li y. Ngi mun g? Vng trn p ca anh. Khng c u. Ti s ly . Cc, cc. Ai vy? Ma thu tr li y.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Lorca cho th sinh hot trong mt tr chi i thoi ca con tr, quen thuc vi hu ht ngi Ty Phng: Knock, Knock. / Who's there? / ....Gn ging nh tr chi ng dao ca con tr Vit: Rng rn ln my c cy lc lc. / Hi thm thy thuc c nh hay khng? .... C hai tr chi ny u c th ko di lp i lp li, khng nht thit phi b gii hn bi thi gian, nht l th th. ng bt u v chm dt on th bng cc, cc / ai ? Cho thy s ko di v nh ca ma thu tr li. Bao lu cn mt t, by lu cn ma thu. Ti sao l ma thu? Thu l thi gian chuyn tip nhng pht huy hong ca cy l ri cht tt khi sang ng. Thu l thi gian t tri hp hi. To sao l vng trn? Khng chn cnh tay hoc
477

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

i mt? Trn l tiu biu cho tr tu, cho s sng. Trong mt on th ngn, Lorca m n xc tr chi gi n li gi ca ci cht. Cht s g ca hi thm con ngi thng xuyn v mt hm s ly mt mng sng cho d con ngi khng mun: Ngi mun g? / Vng trn p ca anh. / Khng c u. / Ti s ly .....V khi no ma thu cn tr li l mng sng cn mong manh. Mt hm ma thu i lun, mang theo linh hn ca vng trn. Mt kiu sinh hot khc thng thy trong th ng, nht l nhng bi th v cui i. Mt li sinh hot su thm, mang y ni nim v ti hoa. Con una cuchara arrancaba los ojos a los cocodrilos y golpeaba el trasero de los monos. Con una cuchara. ............................. Vi chic mung g ng mc mt con c su, ri nh by kh vo mng. Vi chic mung g. ng m u bi th Oda rey de Harlem, ng Vua Harlem, bng nhng i sng t hin thc nh ng vua, c su, by kh. Nhng th ri rt, khng my lin h vi nhau, cng i vo th gii ca khu sng ni ting ti c v bn cng: ph Harlem. Bng dng ngi c thy c s sinh hot ca x hi ni c su hung d, git ngi chp mt v mt by kh ph phch v ti v. ng vua trong mt x hi nh vy, s phi lm g? Mc mt c su cho chng khng cn thy ngi rt cn. nh nh vo mng by kh cho chng ng ph ri. Hoc bn thuc bn ng ha ng vi i sng nhiu nhng: Es por el silencio sapientsimo cuando los camareros y los cocineros y los que limpian con la lengua las heridas de los millonarios buscan al rey por las calles o en los ngulos del salitre. Trong ni im lng uyn bc,, u bp, hu bn le li lim sch
478

Th Federico Garcia Lorca vt thng ca nh triu ph ang tm ng vua ng ng hay gc ph bn thuc Dim Tiu. (6)

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Nhiu hnh nh hot ng chng ln nhau thnh nhiu lp t th khin cho ngha thnh su sc. Sng to sinh hot trong bi th ny ht sc c ng cho d bi th di v cu th di. Nhng t th san st bn nhau, chng cht ln nhau, ha tu no lon, d dn ghi nhn ph Harlem ni gc r ca bo lon mu da. n kt lun l nhng nhm ngi khng u, nhng st th, nhng ti c t trong huyt mch Harlem khng cn li thot. ng vua vi nim tuyt vng mang b ru di ra ti i dng. Ti sao li ru di ra ti i dng? Trong l li th gii th ca Lorca sinh hot, lun lun c iu g m u, b mt ch thi gian thm tha. Mt trong nhng cch xy dng c cu bi th rt thnh cng ca Lorca trong thi im 1925 -1935 l cch k chuyn bng th, rt ph thng ti Ty Ban Nha. D nhin ng hin i ha cu trc , cu c v t ng. V d nh bi Ballad cho Ngi T T, Romance del Emplazado. T th v ni dung ghi li mt x hi ri lon v mt thi nhiu nhng ca chnh tr. Cu trc l tm trng ngi t ch i gi hnh quyt. ng xy dng cu trc theo li c in. C m, c khai trin v c kt nh mt bnh ru c ng ru mi vo. ng m u tm trng c n ch i ca ngi t t, bng hnh nh i mt con nga thao thc chung vi mt ngi. Nhn mnh tm l ca ngi khc khoi mang bn n t hnh. i c n ray rt! i mt nh ca ti i mt ln ca nga, thao thc m m sut m di khng nhn ni no khc ni lng l bin mt gic m ca 13 chic thuyn. Thay v, thc khuya canh gi, l thc ht lng v quyt tm. ng khai trin bng c bi bi nh mnh, liu c mt php l no c th cu sng k t t: " ...ch thnh th c bi bi lnh lo..." Tm l ca k ch cht thng l nh li nhng qung i qu kh. Mt thi nin thiu vui chi: .."..l thiu nin ang tm di trng..", mt thi phiu bng khp ni, m ngy trn
479

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

lng nga: "...nhng k m mt ng...(trn lng)..nhng con nga mt ng..." Ch dng cp t " mt ng " nhn i l thy phong giang h ca k m. Ri ngy n, 25 thng 8, k t t c nhc nh ngy hnh hnh. Khng c php l no. chp nhn ci cht t t n v n ng ngy, khng phi l d. Tp chp tay cu nguyn hoc cho m, lm quen hi lnh di lng t. tp cho quen bng ti. Tp cho quen gai r m xuyn qua thn xc. Nhng tng d ch l v hnh, vn l ni s hi khn ngui: .."..Hc cch chp hai tay / cho quen dn hi lnh / ca kim loi v / v ch hai thng thi / anh s nm im trong tang lim.." Mt ti nhn phng bc tm kim kim loi v tng ni bt ng hnh hi ch thnh th c bi bi lnh lo. m tru nc t tn cng l thiu nin ang tm di trng vi dy sng r sng. Nhng ba g ca ht trn by e mng du nhng k m mt ng nhng con nga mt ng. Ngy 25 thng 6 h ni vi El Amargo: " By gi, nu mun, anh c th ct bi Trc o trong sn. V thnh gi trn ca vit tn anh pha di, cho gai v cy c mc ra t bn hng nhng mi nhn ca gai chanh m t s m thng qua giy ca anh. S l m en, gia ti tm, trong g ng y hp lc
480

Th Federico Garcia Lorca ni by tru chim bao ung nc trong bi sy. Hi xin nh sng v ting chung. Hc cch cch chp tay cho quen dn hi lnh ca kim loi v v ch hai thng thi anh s nm di trong tang lim."

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Lorca dng hnh nh dy sng m nh li gm cht vo gi nh mt lnh hnh quyt vi bng dng t thn lng vng. Ngy 25 thng 8, gi t hnh im. Sng m trn thnh Santiago di ng nh gm cht vo gi. T thn bay ngang bu tri on xung i vai. Ngy 25 thng 6 Amargo cn m mt ngy 25 thng 8 Anh nhm mt xui tay. ng a vo on kt t th nh nhng nhng rung rung nh m thanh n hi, ngn ngn d k t t cht: .."..cho ni c n c an ngh.." Ni c n m khi u m m ch i pht cui cng. i mt nh ca ngi nhm li. Cn i mt to ca nga th sao? Con nga tr thnh mt th chng (nhn chng). Ngi ta ko nhau ra ng i xem ngi t b x t k ng da vch tng cho ni c n c an ngh. (7) Cu trc bi th th c in. Th th Ballad theo truyn thng. Lorca hin i bi th bng nhng t th v ngn ng an nhiu lp chiu su. Ai u ng, ci bi kch ca t t trong cuc chin, trong x hi
481

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

suy i, trong chnh tr bt n li bi kch ca chnh ng. Ch khc ch, ng khng c bo trc ngy b hnh quyt. ng thnh danh bng ti nng tht s ca thi s chn chnh, ht mt i cho ngh thut: thi ca v kch ngh. Ngi ta lm ln thm st Lorca nh tng thm st bit bao nhiu ngh s ti danh bng nhiu cch khc nhau. Phi chng mi thi s u c mt s mnh en ti? Mt s mnh en ti nh mi ngi khc nhng l vng t tr ph n hoa? c li ton b th Lorca, hng dng iu hay, l p ca thi ca t mt thi s ln trong th k 20, nh; Khm phc v ngng m ti nng, chc chn; nhng hn tt c l s ngm ngi. nh, ch ti lin vi ch tai. Nhng sao k khng c ti cng gnh nhiu tai bin? T khi vin n ri nng sng xuyn qua ngi ca ng, Federico Garcia Lorca tr thnh bt t. GHI: (1) Fosforo: Phosphorus, mt loi ho hc thuc nhm Nitrogen. C mu trng hoc mu . (2) Guano: Mt loi da gn ging da M. Ngha khc l phn chim. (3) Danza de la Muerte El mascarn. Mirad el mascarn! Cmo viene del frica a New York! Se fueron los rboles de la pimienta, los pequeos botones de fsforo. Se fueron los camellos de carne desgarrada y los valles de luz que el cisne levantaba con el pico. Era el momento de las cosas secas, de la espiga en el ojo y el gato laminado, del xido de hierro de los grandes puentes y el definitivo silencio del corcho. Era la gran reunin de los animales muertos, traspasados por las espadas de la luz; la alegra eterna del hipoptamo con las pezuas de ceniza y de la gacela con una siempreviva en la garganta.
482

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

En la marchita soledad sin honda el abollado mascarn danzaba. Medio lado del mundo era de arena, mercurio y sol dormido el otro medio. El mascarn. Mirad el mascarn! !Arena, caimn y miedo sobre Nueva York! .............................................. Dance of Death. Bd: Greg Simon v Steven F. White. The mask! Look how the mask comes from Africa to New York. They are gone, the pepper trees, the tiny buds of phosphorus. They are gone, the camels with torn flesh, and the valleys of light the swan lifted in its beak. It was the time of parched things, the wheat spear in the eye, the laminated cat, the time of tremendous, rusting bridges and the deathly silence of cork. It was the great gathering of dead animals pierced by the swords of light. The endless joy of the hippopotamus with cloven feet of ash and of the gazelle with an immortelle in its throat. In the withered, waveless solitude,
483

Th Federico Garcia Lorca the dented mask was dancing. Half the world was sand, the other half mercury and dormant sunlight. The mask. Look at the mask! Sand, crocodile, and fear above New York. (4) Casida de las palomas oscuras, trong phn th Trng K Tamarit. (5) Llagas de amor, trong phn th Tiu Khc Tnh Yu U Ut. (6) Xem phn th Thi s trong thnh ph New York. (7)

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Romance del Emplazado

Mi soledad sin descanso! Ojos chicos de mi cuerpo y grandes de mi caballo, no se cierran por la noche ni miran al otro lado donde se aleja tranquilo un sueo de trece barcos. Sino que limpios y duros escuderos desvelados, mis ojos miran un norte de metales y peascos donde mi cuerpo sin venas consulta naipes helados. Los densos bueyes del agua embisten a los muchachos que se baan en las lunas de sus cuernos ondulados. Y los martillos cantaban sobre los yunques sonmbulos, el insomnio del jinete y el insomnio del caballo. El veinticinco de junio le dijeron a el Amargo: Ya puedes cortar si gustas las adelfas de tu patio. Pinta una cruz en la puerta y pon tu nombre debajo, porque cicutas y ortigas nacern en tu costado, y agujas de cal mojada te mordern los zapatos. Ser de noche, en lo oscuro, por los montes imantados,
484

Th Federico Garcia Lorca donde los bueyes del agua beben los juncos soando. Pide luces y campanas. Aprende a cruzar las manos, y gusta los aires fros de metales y peascos. Porque dentro de dos meses yacers amortajado. Espadn de nebulosa mueve en el aire Santiago.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Grave silencio, de espalda, manaba el cielo combado. El veinticinco de junio abri sus ojos Amargo, y el veinticinco de agosto se tendi para cerrarlos. Hombres bajaban la calle para ver al emplazado, que fijaba sobre el muro su soledad con descanso.

Ballad of The Doomed Man

Bd: Zachary Jean Chartkoff My fretting solitude! The small eyes of my body and the great eyes of my mare do not shut out the night; do not gaze faraway to see a dream of 13 boats toddle along peacefully. Instead, as squires at vigil, are clean and hard. My eyes look toward the north to the precipices and metals where my body of no arteries consults a frozen deck of cards. Massive water oxen charge at the schoolboys

bathing in the moons of their fermenting horns. Hammers were singing on hypnotic anvils insomnia of rider, insomnia of horse. On the 25th of June they told El Amargo: "The time has come to cut down the oleanders out in your yard. Paint a cross up on your door, put your name beneath for nettles and hemlock will sprout from your haunch, and needles of dewy lime will gall through your boots. When at night, in darkness, over magnetic hillocks where the water oxen
485

Th Federico Garcia Lorca dreamily drink up the reeds. Ask for the candles and bells. Learn how to cross your hands and taste the numbing winds of precipices and metals: for in two months from now you will lie under a shroud." Santiago swings his sword, astral, stellar, across the sky. Dismal silence flows out of an arching heaven. On the 25th of June El Amargo opened his eyes, on the 25th of August he lay down and closed them tight. Men were bustling about the street to see the man who was to die, who fixed against the wall his solitude, now feckless.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Instead, clean and hard, squires of wakefulness, my eyes look for a north of metals and of cliffs where my veinless body consults frozen playing cards. Heavy water-oxen charge boys who bathe in the moons of their rippling horns. And the hammers sing on the somnambulous anvils the insomnia of the rider and the insomnia of the horse. On the twenty fifth of June they said to Amargo: - Now, you may cut, if you wish, the oleanders in your courtyard. Paint a cross on your door and put your name beneath it, for hemlock and nettle shall take root in your side and needles of wet lime will bite into your shoes. It will be night, in the dark, in the magnetic mountains where water-oxen drink in the reeds, dreaming. Ask for lights and bells. Learn to cross your hands, to taste the cold air of metals and of cliffs
486

Ballard of One Doomed to Die

Bd: Landston Hughes Loneliness without rest! The little eyes of my body and the big eyes of my horse never close at night nor look that other way where quiet disappears a dream of thirteen boats.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca because within two months you'll lie down shrouded. Santiago moved his misty sword in the air. Dead silence flows over the shoulder of the curved sky. On the twenty-fifth of June Amargo opened his eyes, and the twenty fifth of August

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. he lay down to close them. Men came down the street to look upon the doomed one who cast on the wall his shadow of loneliness at rest. And the impeccable sheet with its hard Roman accent gave death a certain poise by the rectitude of its folds.

487

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gii thiu trng thi Llanto Por Ignacio Snchez Mejas ca thi s Federico Garcia Lorca 488

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

iu ca cho Ignacio Snchez Mejas l mt trong nhng tc phm hay nht ca thi s Federico Garcia Lorca. Mt trong nhng trng thi hng u trn th gii trong th k 20. Sng tc trong nm 1934, trnh lng 1935. Khong mt nm trc khi ng qua i. Christopher Maurer, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tennessee nhn xt rng: ... l mt tc phm th ln nht ca Ty ban Nha k t thi s Jorge Manrique ca th k 15. ( trang xvi, Federico Garcia Lorca Selected Verse. A Billingual Edition.) Tc phm chia lm bn phn: 1- La cogida y la muerte. u b v ci cht. The Goring and the Death. 2- La sangre derramada. Mu Chy. The spilled blood. 3- Cuerpo presente. Xc thn cn . Presence of the body. 4- Alma ausente. Vng bng linh hn. Adsence of the soul. Ignacio snchez Mejas l mt tay u b ni ting Ty Ban Nha vo u th k 20. Sinh Seville thng Su nm 1891 v qua i ngy 13 thng Tm nm 1934 ti Madrid. ng cn l mt nh vn. Nhng ngh s ng thi nh Miguel Hermndez, Rafael Alberti, Jorge Guilln, Jos Bergamn, Dmaso Alonso, Gerardo Diego.... v Federico Garcia Lorca l bn thn ca ng. Mejas c v v nhiu tnh nhn. Encarnacin Lpez, v chnh thc ca ng, va l ca s va l ngh s trnh din v nhc, c yu chung ng thi. B c bit danh l La Argentinita. B h sinh cho ng hai c con gi. Qua Lpez, Mejas v Lorca tr thnh bn thn. i xa hn mt bc na l tnh nhn. Nm 1934, Mejas gp mt ngh s ngi Php gc Ty Ban Nha, c Marcelle Auclair, v em lng yu thng. Chia tay vi Lorca, Mejas eo ui c Auclair v tn bn Php nhng mi tnh khng thnh. ng tr v li Ty Ban Nha v nhn lnh s mnh ca mnh. Bn ca ng, Domingo Ortega, cng l mt tay cao th u b, s trnh u ti vn ng trng Manzanares ngy 11 thng Tm nm 1934 nhng chng may b tai nn xe trn ng i. Ortega phi nh Mejas thay th. Trong trn u ny, Ignacio Snchez Mejas b trng thng. Sng b mng m thng chn v bng. Mejas mun c cha thng bnh vin ti Madrid nhng xe cu thng gp tr ngi khi a ng n bnh vin. Hai ngy sau ng b nhim trng, bnh tr nng v qua i vo bui sng ngy 13.

489

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sau ci cht ca Ignacio Snchez Mejas. Ci cht ca Mejas gy khng hong v au n cho Lorca trong mt thi gian di. Trong ni au kh , iu Ca cho Ignacio Sanchz Mejas ra i. iu Ca ny t c nhng tinh ty th ca Lorca. Phi hp li k chuyn nh trong Primer romancero gitano (Tnh ca Ballad Gypsy). To dng nhngcu trc siu thc nh trong Poeta en nueva york (Thi s trong thnh ph New York) nhng c ng thm trm theo nhp iu bi ai ca iu ca ca ging dn du mc Gypsy. Nhng biu tng v s vt tng trng nhn thy trng trng ip ip trong bi trng thi ny. V cao p nht l nhng cm xc su m c din t thnh nhng m cm rt cm ng v qu phi. Tnh cm ca ng nh nhng con nc triu cng ht t ny n t khc dn g ln, ko xung. Lng lng trong ngn ng v c cu ca tng cu, tng on th, vit ra t mt ci cht bnh thng nh mi ci cht, tr thnh mt bi kch vn chng. Ngh thut th trong iu Ca. Th l con ng c bit ca ngn ng nm trong mt khun kh ca cu trc, cho d khng c khun no c nh. Cu, m thanh, hnh nh, t tng v ngh s khi ng mnh lit s tng tng t thi s n c gi. Trong iu Ca cho Ignacio Snchez Mejas, thi s Lorca kho lo vn dng nhng k thut v hn hp nhng ngh thut khc nhau ca tng trng, siu thc v truyn thng mt cch tri chy. Trc tin ng s dng ng lc to ra nhng nhng hnh nh trong tr tng v trong tm l, t ng chuyn t sang ngi c. Ni y mi thy kh nng thi ca ca ng khi dng nhng cnh-s-vt siu thc lin kt hoc tch la hin thc. i khi ngi c lin tng c nhng iu ng chuyn ch. i khi ngi c lc lng vo m-thc (v thc v m ngy) ca ng. V d nh ng dng hnh nh con bo dng mnh ch cho thn xc ngi u b v con b cu ch cho tm thc ca Ignacio. Ya luchan la paloma y el leopardo, chim b cu chin u cng con bo. ( Cu 14). ng cn dng nhng biu tng hoc tng trng to ra nhng lp dy ca t th. T ng to ra tm trng cho ngi c. ng li ko ngi thng ngon v m thm thuyt phc h h chm vo cm xc ca tm s th mt cch t nhin. c bit, ng to cho bi th di chuyn trong nhc iu. i khi nhc iu rt t do. ic ca ny xy dng trn ci cht ca Mejas, than khc v by t tm s ca tnh nhn trong dy v ca mt mt yu thng nhng t th, th v c cu th vt ln mc iu ca cho mt ngi tr thnh iu ca cho c mi ngi. Tm trng v khng kh cht chc c xy dng mt cch chn tnh v cm ng nhng cao k. y cng l bit ti ca ng. Vn chng Ty Ban Nha nhn xt v ng nh sau, nh cao ca kh nng sng to, Federico Garcia Lorca lm ch c ngn ng, hnh nh v cm xc nh mt bn ha tu. Xin c:

490

Th Federico Garcia Lorca A lo lejos ya viene la gangrena a las cinco de la tarde. Trompa de lirio por las verdes ingles a las cinco de la tasrde. Las heridas quemaban como soles (Trch La cogida y la muerte. Cu 41 n cu 45) Mi t kh vi t xa phng pht lc 5 gi chiu. Du m trn hng v tht loe hnh hoa Kn lc 5 gi chiu. Nng nung sc nng lm vt thng mng m ...

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Lorca chng minh c s trng ca phi Siu thc qua tng tng ni kt nhng truyn thng ca vn ha v ci cht theo kiu Ty Ban Nha. ng "m thc" ngi bn u b i ra khi ci sng nh i vo u trng, gnh ni cht trn i vai: Por las gradas sube Ignacio / con toda su muerte a cuestas. ( Ingacio bc tng bc ln / hai vai gnh nng y ni cht.) La piedra es una frente donde los suenos gimen sin tener agua curva ni cipreses helasdos. La piedra es una espalda para llevar al tiempo con rboles de lgrimas y cintas y planetas. ( Trch Cuerpo presente, cu 146-150) Bia m nh vng trn cha gic m th than khng dng sng khng hng thng gi lnh. Bia nh i vai gnh chu thi gian cng cy nh l, bng tang v tinh t. Hnh tng bia m dng trn du ca ngi cht nm gia cnh hoang vu lnh lo, chu ng thi gian khng bit bao lu, ci gi l thin thu c n, trong o m ca Lorca chm vo tm linh ngi c. Ri c lc, mi ngi cng chui vo ci thin thu kia. Kh nng "m thc", c th gi l daydream, mt loi hnh nh, cu chuyn xy ra trong tm tng ca con ngi. Cng l bn cht ca tng tng cng vi xut thn, cng l kho tng ca sng tc. Lm cch no m ca kho tng ny v lm th no ch

491

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

bu vt vo th, l cp bc ti nng ca thi s. Gi tr sng tc nm y, khng phi nm nhng l thuyt ch dng cho khoa bng nhm nhi. Trong iu Ca cho Ignacio, ng vn chuyn nhng hnh nh m thc vo th, lm tng s o diu ca ngn ng, lm phong ph t th v lm thm trm ngha. Quan trng nht l cho tm tnh phiu ht ngoi gii hn ca thc t. Trong mi phn ca bn phn th iu Ca, Lorca to cho mi phn mi trng tm lm hp lc v bn trng tm ny phi hp vi nhau lm cho th v ci cht thm ngha c b rng ln b su. Khng phi ch l ci cht thn xc ca Ignacio m su sc hn l ci cht tm linh ca Lorca. Hp lc trong phn u: La cogida y la muerte, u b v ci cht, l cu: a las cinco de la tarde, lc 5 gi chiu. Phn u gm 52 cu, cu ng nm gi lp li 25 ln nguyn vn v 1 ln gn ngu yn vn, A las cinco en punto de la tarde. Trong khung cnh ca bui lim tang, cu lc 5 gi chiu, u u vang ln, nhm chn nhng mnh mng nh ting cu kinh: Xin Cha thng xt chng con. Xin cho linh hn ... c ln chn ngh ngi. Nam m a di Pht. u u ko tm tr ca ngi c v tm t ca ngi vit v li vi ci cht ca Ignacio v Federico. Ting u u ny cn c cng dng lm cho tm t lng ng, chm dn theo m iu, vo chn bun bun ngy ngy. Trong phn hai, La sangre derramada, Mu chy, l t tng trong cu: Que no quiero verla!, Khng, ti khng mun nhn!. Mt s ph nhn hin thc lm cho thc t thm bi xt. Lorca t chi khng mun nhn thy mu ca Ignacio vung vi trong u trng, trn ng n bnh vin, t rong v hnh ca nhng ni quen thuc. ng cng ph nhn chng no th ting vang cng di ln mnh m. Phn th ny nh m t c s bi phn. Trong phn ba, Cuerpo presente, Xc thn cn , hp lc nm trong tng quay v hin thc: Ignacio cht. ng s dng nhng t th t bia dng m cho n nhng "m thc" nh: Ya se acab. La lluvia penetra por su boca. El aire como loco deja su pecho hundido, y el Amor, empapado con lgrimas de nieve, se caliennta en la cumbre de las ganaderias. ( Trch Cuerpo presente, cu 103-106.) ht ri, ma chy qua ming anh Hi th cung in gi t khung ngc lp Tnh yu, tuyt ri l ngm t lnh xng
492

Th Federico Garcia Lorca ch si m trn cao nguyn sc vt. Hoc: aqu no quiero ms que los ojos redondos para ver ese cuerpo sin posible descanso. (Trch cu 174-175.)
Ti ch mun thy nhng con mt m to nhn thn xc anh khng bao gi yn ng.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Lorca cho ngi c theo di mt cuc tranh u trong ni tm ca ng. T s t chi ci cht ca Ignacio, mt phn ng ca tm l khi lng yu thng b mt mt ln lao, cho n khi phi chp nhn hin thc: Ignacio cht. No quiero que le tapen la cara con panuelos para que se acostumbre con la muerte que lleva. Vete, Ignacio: No sientas el caliente bramido. Duerme, vuela, reposa: Tambin se muere el ma! (Trch cu 192-195.) Ti khng mun ph khn tay ln mt anh s gin on ng anh v ci cht. i i thi, Ignacio! ng nu ko ting b hng hc rng. Hy ng say, bay cao, ngh yn: Bin cng cht! Trong phn cui, Alma ausente, Vng bng linh hn, hp lc ci t cu: porque te has muerto para siempre, v anh cht tr thnh min vin, a vo on kt, thng hoa ha ci cht ca Ignacio nh mt dng tng, th cht ngoi sa trng, khng cht trn ging bnh. Tardar mucho tiempo en nacer, si es que nace, un andaluz tan claro, tan rico de aventura. Yo canto su elegancia con palabras que gimen y recuerdo una brisa triste por los olivos.
493

Th Federico Garcia Lorca (Trch Alma ausente, cu 217-220.) Cn lu lm, nu nh th, s thy mt ngi Andalusia vn cao, rt i phiu lu. Ti ca ngi phong cch ng vi li than th nh ngi qua rng -liu, gi th tho.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Lorca "bo cha" s mt mt bng thng hoa ci cht ca Ignacio l mt anh hng u b ni ting khp Ty Ban Nha, nht l vng phng nam, ni u b c xem nh l nim kiu hnh. Mt ngi anh hng nh vy, khng th cht trn ging bnh. Phi chn ci cht kiu hng ngi i sau tng nh. V ci cht ca Ignacio nh vy l xng ng. Chung cuc, iu Ca cho Ignacio Sanchez Mejas l bn bi th, ni li thnh mt trung ca. im nhn y l phng php ni bn on th. Mi on th din t mi gc cnh nhn khc nhau t chng kin quan st v cm nhn qua n s biu hin tm trng ca tm l mu thun ri kt thc bng s ngi ca mt cch bi thit. Nhng gc nhn phi li vi nhau cho ngi c mt cu chuyn ni tm vi nhng chi tit vn v v mt bi iu ca gi tr. Ngi c s tm thy s thnh cng ca iu ca ny khng nhng ch l k thut din t c th v cao k m quan trng hn l ngh thut vn chuyn t nhin, i lc xut thn. Hi th lc dn dp li ko ngi c khng kp c, lc chm ri km hm tc cm xc, lc thm trm chm lng suy t. Cho d n thi im ny, nhng u t ca th Lorca quen thuc nhng khng phi v vy m km phn hay p. Nh mt m nhn lung tui, d tc bc da nhn nhng mi khi nhn li tm hnh chp lc tui i mi. Ny, bit bao nhiu k bi hi!

Xem: Llato por Ignacio Snchez Mejas trn youtube: - Th, nhc v v kch 1946 o din bi Doris Himprey. Nhc bi Norman Loyd http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2qCiMe3EeM - c th bng Anh ng: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dS4_55QA-vE - c th bng Php ng http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kI0E5BLTvtc
494

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

( D nhin, vn hc th gii ni Federico Garcia Lorca lm th hay, th gi tr. Nhiu nh ph bnh hng u trong th k qua xc nhn nhng iu "hay" trong th Lorca. Khng ai c th chi ci v tr ca ng trong vn n thi ca ca nhn loi. Ngi Vit chng ta c thy "hay" khng? Mt ngi chy b gi gn sc khe v mt ngi chy b tp thi in kinh hoc chy marathon l hai thc v hai tm tnh khc nhau. a s ngi Vit lm th nh mt gii by tm s. Cao hn l by t bc xc. Sau khi th l phng tin gii quyt tm l, th c kh nng l mt im trang trong x hi. Nhiu ngi mun lm thi s hn lm th. H khng my quan tm v vic hc lm th m quan tm n vic ngi khc bit h lm th. Nhng ngi am m hc hi lm th th bit r, hc no cng v tn. Mi ngi mi cch chi. Khng ai hay hn ai. Ch c ai chi c ht lng hay khng. thc v lm th l lm ngh thut cho mnh cho ngi cho hm nay v cho ngy mai l thc tt yu to nn tm vc ca thi s. Ni t v tr ca sng to, l thc sng tc v tc phm v v ngh thut. Federico Garcia Lorca rt thc v vic sng tc. ng i t nhng tc phm bnh thng nh tuyn tp th Libro de poemas (1920) qua n thi phm Suites (1923) v Cancions (1921-1924) l mt s thay i v quan nim th. n tc phm poeta en nueva york (1929-1934) l cc nh ca ngh thut Siu Thc ca Lorca. V trng thi iu Ca cho Ignacio Snchez Mejas t c danh cc phm. Rt nhiu nhc s Vit sng tc ca khc hay nh Vn Cao, Cung Tin, Dng Thiu Tc, T Cng Phng, L Uyn Phng, Anh Bng, L Dinh, Tun Khanh, Trnh Cng Sn...v..v... k khng ht nhng ch c Phm Duy, vi thc sng tc v tc phm v ngh thut, mi cho chng ta Con ng Ci Quan, M Vit Nam, T khc Hn Mc T, Tm Ca, Thin Ca, ........ thc v vn ngh, v sng tc, v sng to, v tc phm l "c cu" cho ngh thut ca mt tc gi.)

495

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

iu Ca cho Ignacio Snchez Mejas

*** 1. u B v Ci Cht
Nm gi chiu. ng 5 gi chiu. Thng b n mang khn lim trng lc nm gi chiu. L chanh ch p ra xc thn lc nm gi chiu. Xung quanh tang tc, nh ci cht lc nm gi chiu. Gi bay x vi bun pht ph lc nm gi chiu. R hoen trn long lanh kn lc 5 gi chiu.
496

Th Federico Garcia Lorca B cu vng vy chng bo rng lc 5 gi chiu. Trn hng du sng b m lng lc 5 gi chiu. Dy trm m su rn bt u lc 5 gi chiu. Ting chung ng thic rung hng khi lc 5 gi chiu. Mt gc ngi, ngi lng l bn nhau lc 5 gi chiu. i, con b th nhp tim xung ng! lc 5 gi chiu. Khi m hi lnh rn trn ngi lc 5 gi chiu. Khi u trng tung te thuc tr thng lc 5 gi chiu. L mm cht ny sinh t thng tch lc 5 gi chiu. Nm gi chiu. ng 5 gi chiu. Ging rung ry nh quan ti di ng lc 5 gi chiu. Tai cn vang ting so, ting gy xng lc 5 gi chiu. Ting b rng hung hng trn vng trn lc 5 gi chiu. Cho cn phng rc r sc kh au lc 5 gi chiu. Mi t kh vi t xa phng pht lc 5 gi chiu. Du sng m loe tht ti nh hoa
497

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca lc 5 gi chiu. Thng tch chy nh mt tri lc 5 gi chiu, ri m ngi x y ca chu tang lc 5 gi chiu. Hi i, nm gi chiu. Thm khc thay lc nm gi chiu! Tt c ng h ch ng 5 gi chiu! Nm gi chiu ca hong hn u ti!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

2. Mu Chy
Khng, ti khng mun nhn! Xin mi vng trng n chng gim ti khng mun nhn mu Ignacio tro ri trn t. Khng, ti khng mun nhn! Trng hin ra sng t nh v nga theo ln my lng yn trong chim bao u trng bun b vi hng dng liu mc quanh ro. Khng, ti khng mun nhn! V thng nh trong ti thiu t. Hy nhn li xin nhng cy Li mang v y nhng cnh hoa trng. Khng, ti khng mun thy
498

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Con b Mng t thi thng c th li lim th lng trn mm tro y mu ri xung t u trng, nhng tng b trn i Guisando, hu nh cht, hu nh ha ku rng sut hai trm nm mt mi dm chn ti ch. Khng. Ti khng mun thy! Ignacio bc tng bc ln hai vai gnh nng y ni cht. Anh tm kim nh sng rng ng m rng ng khng bao gi n. Anh eo ui ch ln c m m gic ng dn anh lc mt. Anh tm kim thn hnh thm m ch thy mu thm vt thng. i, ng bt ti phi nhn! Ti khng mun thy dng mu phun ra theo nhp th cn dn, mu phun lng lnh trn hng gh ngi ln vi nhung v ln ln da ln m khn gi kht mu. Ai ro gi ti n y? i, ng bt ti thy. Anh m mt nhn m m khi sng b m xp gn nhng ph n nht s
499

Th Federico Garcia Lorca vn ngn mt ln xem. Gia mnh mng trong sn rng nghe ting thn b trn khng trung gi l b Mng thin s bi nhng thin thn m o trong sng. Khng hong t no trong thnh Serville c th snh vi anh, khng li gm no nh li gm anh, khng tri tim no cn chn tht. Nh by s t trn nh sng sc mnh trong anh tht l thng nh tng bn thn bng cm thch phi by nhng nt v thng minh. Khng kh thi chin Andalussia chng La M ta trn u anh nh ho quang, n n ci nh a Cam Tng quyn r v thng thi. i, ngi u b dng cm trong u trng! i, k leo ni ti tnh trn nh cao! Du dng thay la tr bng! D dn thay ting thc nga! Mong manh thay git sng mai! Sng st thay gia l hi! Khng khip thay gi pht cui khi ngn lao sau cng m vo bng ti ! By gi, anh ng gic trm nm. By gi, ru phong v c di mc ln nhng ngn tay ti hoa tr bng trn xng s. By gi, mu ca anh ht ca:
500

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca vang qua m ly v ng c, lt qua nhng sng b lnh ong, l lm v thng trong sng m, i u vi ngn chn b chy nh chic li en di bun ru, lim thnh mt vng thng kh bn dng sng Guadalquivi y sao. , bc tng trng Ty Ban Nha! , con tru en ca su kh! , mu ong cng ca Ignacio! , ting Sn Ca trong huyt mch! Khng. Ti khng mun nhn! Khng c ly no hng ly, khng mt ngm no ung cho tri, khng sng sng no ong lnh, khng ca ht, khng trn ngp hoa Kn, khng thy tinh bn ngoi m bc. Khng. Ti khng mun nhn thy!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

3. Xc Thn Cn
Bia nh vng trn ni chim bao th than khng sng un khc, khng hng thng chu lnh. Bia nh i vai gnh chu thi gian cng cy ong l, bng tang v tinh t.
501

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Ta tng thy ma bun bay ko sng ging cnh tay b n du dng, nh trnh n chiu cao bia khng r xc thn, khng t mu kh. Bi bia gp ht mm v my xm gp xng chim, xng si du m u; khng m thanh, khng long lanh, khng la chy, ch u trng v u trng v tn khng ro ngn. Ignacio, k ti hoa nm ngh ni bia . Anh i ri. Chuyn g y? Hy nhn anh ta! Cht ph mu lu hunh ln xc i ln anh u qu s sng b. Anh cht ri. Ma chy tun qua ming . Hi th cung in t gi ngc lp kh. Tnh yu, t v tuyt ri nh l, trn cao nguyn b mng si m anh. Ni g y? Mi t kh m thm lng ng. Ta a ngi ang tan bin xc thn, hnh hi y vng son thi Sn Ca ma ht ang r tan theo c khot thi gian. Ai bc khn vi lim? Khng ng li anh ni! Khng ai ht ca, khng ai khc thm, khng ai ci nga, khng ai nh rn: ta mun cng nhng i mt m to nhn thn xc khng bao gi yn ngh. Ta mun nghe nhng ngi ni dng dc. Chinh phc nga rng v chinh phc dng sng:
502

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca ct ting ht bng tn cng xng ty nng t tri, te la t mi. Ta mun thy h. Trc bia . bn xc thn cn sinh kh im lm. Ta mun h ch u l li thot khi ngi dn ta b ci cht cm gng. Cho ta khc iu ca nh sng chy c sng m m , c bi su trm, thn xc Ignacio chn vo qun lng khng cn nghe ting b th thng au. Anh bin dn gia u trng trng khuyt nh ngy xa chi ct bt gi v, anh bin dn vo m khng ng nhn ca ht ch khi m sng trng lnh ng bng. Ta khng mun ph khn che ln mt v s anh s quen ci cht. i i thi! Ignacio. ng nu ko ting b hng hc rng. Hy ng ngon, bay cao v bnh yn: i, t nay i dng cht!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

4. Vng Bng Linh Hn

Con b khng nh anh, cy Sung cng khng, con nga khng nh, n kin trong nh khng nh. Tr con khng nh, bui chiu cng khng, v anh cht tr thnh min vin.
503

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Lng ca bia khng nh anh l ai vi en lim xung m cng khng nh. Qu kh lng cm khng nh anh v anh cht tr thnh min vin. Ma thu tr li vi by c Sn sng ph vn nho, m m i ni nhng khng ai chu nhn su mt anh v anh cht tr thnh min vin. V anh cht tr thnh min vin nh mi ngi ri b ci i nh mi ngi cht b lng qun nh ng ch cht ch tiu hy. Khng ai nh anh. Khng ai. Nhng ti ca ngi anh v tiu s, v phong , cho ngi hu th. Tr tu anh t mc thng tha. Lng khao kht cht tro ln mi hng v. Ni mun phin chn nim can m hn hoan. Cn lu lm, mi c th thy li, mt ngi Andalusia dng cm v ti ba.. Ti ngi ca phong thi ca anh bng li ca iu nh ngi khi rng -Liu thong gi th thm..

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ht iu Ca cho Ignacio Snchez Mejas.

504

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bn chuyn ngha gn v ghi ch

GHI: Chuyn th so vi bn bn dch: 1. Lament for Ignacio Snchez Mejas. Alans S. Trueblood. Federico Garcia Lorca Selected Verse. Edited by Christopher Maurer. Harper Collins Canada, Ltd. 2. Bn dch: Stephen Spender v J.L. Gili trongThe Selected Poems of Federico Garcia Lorca. Edited by Francisco Garcia Lorca v Donald M. Allen. A New Direction Paperbook. 3. Bn dch ca A.S. Kline. http://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Spanish/FiveintheafternoonLorca.htm#_Toc527959419. Translated by A. S. Kline 2007 All Rights Reserved This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any noncommercial purpose. 4. Bn dch ca Brian Cole - http://www.poesi.as/index228uk.htm - http://spanishpoems.blogspot.com/2005/07/federico-garca-lorca-llanto-por-ignacio_12.html - http://spanishpoems.blogspot.com/2005/07/federico-garca-lorca-llanto-por-ignacio_5547.html - http://spanishpoems.blogspot.com/2005/07/federico-garca-lorca-llanto-por-ignacio_2064.html 5- Nhng dch gi khc nh: Meeryn Williams, Mark Leech. D c trn mng, ti cng xin chp ra y, phng v sau nu khng cn mng, vn c c.

505

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Khi m hi lnh rn chy lc nm gi chiu. Khi u trng vng vi thuc tr thng (7) lc nm gi chiu. Mm cht ny sinh t thng tch (8) lc nm gi chiu. Lc nm gi chiu. ng nm gi chiu. Ging nm nh quan ti trn bnh xe (9) lc nm gi chiu. Ting xng gy v ting so cn vang bn tai (10) lc nm gi chiu. Con b rng ln trn vng trn (11) lc nm gi chiu. Cn phng rc sc mu kh au (12) lc nm gi chiu. T xa ngi c mi t kh (13) lc nm gi chiu. Vt thng bi b hc loe tht ti trn hng (14) lc nm gi chiu. Thng tch chy nh mt tri (15) lc nm gi chiu. v m ng ko x vo ca s lc nm gi chiu. Lc nm gi chiu. Khng khip thay lc nm gi chiu! Tt c ng h ch nm gi chiu! ng nm gi chiu ca bng ti!

1. u B v Ci Cht.
Lc nm gi chiu. (1) ng nm gi chiu. Thng b n mang khn lim trng lc nm gi chiu. Mt gi y vi sn sng (2) lc nm gi chiu. tt c cn li nh cht, ton l cht lc nm gi chiu. Gi thi x vi bay pht ph (3) lc nm gi chiu. R hoen long lanh mu m kn (4) lc nm gi chiu. B cu chin u cng con bo (5) lc nm gi chiu. Vt thng trn hng hc bi sng b (6) lc nm gi chiu. Ting n trm bt u. lc nm gi chiu. Ting chung ng thic v khi ta lc nm gi chiu. Trong gc, nhm ngi lng l lc nm gi chiu. i, con b vi xung ng nhp tim! lc nm gi chiu.

506

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

GHI: (1) Cu th " lc 5 gi chiu" c lp li 25 ln vi ch ca tc gi nh ting ba ng inh ci cht ca Ignacio vo tm t ca sng tc v thng ngon. (2) S dng vi lim ngi cht, s lm cho bt mi hi, kh trng v s gip tht xng mau tan. Khng s di b cn trng n xc.. Tc lim Ty Ban Nha thi xa. C ghi ch khc l dng chanh (l chanh) ra thy ngi cht. Va sch, va st trng, t hi thi v cht t xt cng gip thn th d phn hy. Cal: c C hai ngha vi v l chanh. (3) Xin xem s khc bit gia ba bn dch. El viento se llev los algodones. Cn gi thi (mang theo) vi bng (cotton). (4) Xem ba bn dch khc nhau. Y el xido sembr cristal y nquel. V r st ri rc thy tinh (lng lnh) v m kn. (5) Con bo vi tnh dng cm i din cho xc thn ngi u b. B cu i din cho tinh thn ca ngi u b. rng, linh hn v th xc ca Ignacio tri qua mt trn ging co trong cn hp hi trc khi b cuc. Mt ngha tng trng khc, con bo nh con b d v b cu nh ngi u b. Tuy nhin hnh nh ny khng vng v ngi u b l nim kiu hng ca dn Ty Ban Nha, kh m v nh chim b cu. (6) Xem ba bn dch. Y un muslo con un asta desolada. V trn i (hng) (thy) b tn ph bi sng b. (7) Xem ba bn dch. Y el toro corazn arriba! V con b ngng hn ln. Corazn: Ngoi ngha tri tim cn ngha tinh thn / linh hn (Spirit). Nu chn ngha tri tim, tc l ni n cnh u trng khi con b xung ng. Chn ngha hn l ni n cnh ang tang lim. (8) ca Lorca, khi Ignacio b b hc trng thng, ci cht bt u. nh mnh sp sn. Xin xem ba bn dch. La muerte puso huevos en la herida. Ci cht nhn thy t mm mng trong vt thng. (9) mun ni khi ng xc ng, tay lc chic ging, chic ging di chuyn. (10) Xin xem ba bn dch. Huesos y flautas suenan en su oido. Ting xng v ting so nghe trong tai ca anh. (11) Xin xem ba bn. El toro ya muga por su frente. Con b rng ln t vng trn. (12) Xin xem ba bn. El cuarto se irisaba de agona. Cn phng rc sc mu (cu vng) ca au kh. (13) Xin xem ba bn dch. A lo lejos ya viene la gagrena. T xa mi hi thi bay n. (14) Trompa de lirio por las verdes ingles. Sng b hnh hoa Kn (hoa ly ly) trn hng r rt. Ch verdes, green y ch vt thng cn mi. (15) Xem ba bn dch rt khc nhau. Las heridas quemaban como soles. Thng tch chy nh nng mt tri. C th hiu: Vt thng b sng thi bi nh nng mt tri.
507

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. cuando la plaza se cubri de yodo a las cinco de la tarde, la muerte puso huevos en la herida a las cinco de la tarde. A las cinco de la tarde. A las cinco en Punto de la tarde. Un atad con ruedas es la cama a las cinco de la tarde. Huesos y flautas suenan en su odo a las cinco de la tarde. El toro ya muga por su frente a las cinco de la tarde. El cuarto se irisaba de agona a las cinco de la tarde. A lo lejos ya viene la gangrena a las cinco de la tarde. Trompa de lirio por las verdes ingles a las cinco de la tarde. Las heridas quemaban como soles a las cinco de la tarde, y el gento rompa las ventanas a las cinco de la tarde. A las cinco de la tarde. Ay, qu terribles cinco de la tarde! Eran las cinco en todos los relojes! Eran las cinco en sombra de la tarde!

1. La cogida Y La Muerte
A las cinco de la tarde. Eran las cinco en punto de la tarde. Un nio trajo la blanca sbana a las cinco de la tarde. Una espuerta de cal ya prevenida a las cinco de la tarde. Lo dems era muerte y slo muerte a las cinco de la tarde. El viento se llev los algodones a las cinco de la tarde. Y el xido sembr cristal y nquel a las cinco de la tarde. Ya luchan la paloma y el leopardo a las cinco de la tarde. Y un muslo con un asta desolada a las cinco de la tarde. Comenzaron los sones de bordn a las cinco de la tarde. Las campanas de arsnico y el humo a las cinco de la tarde. En las esquinas grupos de silencio a las cinco de la tarde. Y el toro solo corazn arriba! a las cinco de la tarde. Cuando el sudor de nieve fue llegando a las cinco de la tarde

508

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Death laid her eggs in the wound in the afternoon at five. In the afternoon at five. In the afternoon exactly at five. A coffin on wheels is the bed in the afternoon at five. Bones and flutes sound in his ears in the afternoon at five. The bull was bellowing in his face in the afternoon at five. The room was rainbowed with agony in the afternoon at five. Already gangrene comes from afar in the afternoon at five. A lily trumpet through his green loins in the afternoon at five. The wounds were burnng like suns in the afternoon at five. and the crowd broke the windows in the afternoon at five. In the afternoon at five. How terrible this afternoon at five! It was five o'clock by all the watches! The afternoon was in shadow at five!

1. The Goring and the Death

Bn dch ca Brian Cole In the afternoon at five. It was afternoon, exactly at five. A boy brought in the white sheet in the afternoon at five. A basket of lime was standing ready in the afternoon at five. The rest was death and only death in the afternoon at five. The wind carried off the balls of lint in the afternoon at five. And the chloride glittered nickel and crystal in the afternoon at five. Now the dove struggles and the leopard in the afternoon at five. And a gored thigh with the bull's horn in the afternoon at five. There began the sound of a bass string in the afternoon at five. The bells of arsenic and the smoke in the afternoon at five. In the corner groups of silence in the afternoon at five. And the bull stood alone with head held high in the afternoon at five. When the snowy sweat was starting in the afternoon at five. when the sand was covered with iodine in the afternoon at five.
509

1. The Goring and the Death

Bn dch A.S. Kline At five in the afternoon. It was just five in the afternoon. A boy brought the white sheet

Th Federico Garcia Lorca at five in the afternoon. A basket of lime made ready at five in the afternoon. The rest was death and only death at five in the afternoon. The wind blew the cotton wool away at five in the afternoon. And oxide scattered nickel and glass at five in the afternoon. Now the dove and the leopard fight at five in the afternoon. And a thigh with a desolate horn at five in the afternoon. The bass-pipe sound began at five in the afternoon. The bells of arsenic, the smoke at five in the afternoon. Silent crowds on corners at five in the afternoon. And only the bull with risen heart! at five in the afternoon. When the snow-sweat appeared at five in the afternoon. when the arena was splashed with iodine at five in the afternoon. death laid its eggs in the wound at five in the afternoon. At five in the afternoon. At just five in the afternoon. A coffin on wheels for his bed at five in the afternoon.
510

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Bones and flutes sound in his ear at five in the afternoon. Now the bull bellows on his brow at five in the afternoon. The room glows with agony at five in the afternoon. Now out of distance gangrene comes at five in the afternoon. Trumpets of lilies for the green groin at five in the afternoon. Wounds burning like suns at five in the afternoon, and the people smashing windows at five in the afternoon. At five in the afternoon. Ay, what a fearful five in the afternoon! It was five on every clock! It was five of a dark afternoon!

The Goring And The Death.

Bn dch: Alans S. Trueblood At five in the afternoon. It was exactly five in the afternoon. A boy brought the white sheet at five in the afternoon. A basketful of lime in readiness at five in the afternoon. Beyond that, death and death alone at five in the afternoon.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca The wind carried off wisps of cotton at five in the afternoon. And oxide dispersed glass and nickel at five in the afternoon. Dove locked in struggle with leopard at five in the afternoon. A thigh with a horn of desolation at five in the afternoon. The bass strings began to throb at five in the afternoon. The bells of arsenic, the smoke at five in the afternoon. At street corners silence clustering at five in the afternoon. Only the bull with upbeat heart at five in the afternoon. When snow-cold sweat began to form at five in the afternoon. when iodine had overspread the ring at five in the afternoon. death laid eggs in the wound at five in the afternoon. At five in the afternoon. At exactly five in the afternoon.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

A coffin on wheels is the bed at five in the afternoon. Bones and flutes resound in his ear at five in the afternoon. The bull was bellowing in his face at five in the afternoon. Death pangs turned the room iridescent at five in the afternoon. In the distance gangrene on the way at five in the afternoon. Lily-trumpet in the verdant groin at five in the afternoon. When wounds burned with the heat of suns at five in the afternoon. and the throng burst through the windows at five in the afternoon. At five in the afternoon. Horrifying five in the afternoon the stroke of give on every clock. The dark of five in the afternoon.

( Ht phn mt. u B v Ci Cht.)

511

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Ignacio bc tng bc ln hai vai gnh y ni cht. Anh tm kim rng ng mt rng ng khng c. Anh eo ui ch ln c m m gic ng dn anh lc li. Anh tm kim thn hnh thm m m thy mu t vt thng. i, ng bt ti phi nhn! Ti khng mun thy dng mu phun ra theo nhp th cn dn, mu phun lng lnh trn hng gh ngi ln vi nhung, ln da ca m ng kht mu. Ai ro gi ti n? i, ng bt ti phi nhn. Anh m mt trng trng khi sng b m st nhng ngi m nht s ngng mt ln nhn. Nghe gia n b Mng (5) ting b mt vang trn khng trung gi l b thin s bi k chn b m o trong sng.. Khng c hong t no Serville (6) c th so snh vi anh, khng li gm no nh gm anh, khng con tim no thnh tht. Nh mt by s t sc mnh anh l thng
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2. Mu Chy
Khng, ti khng mun nhn! (1) Hy gi vng trng n, ti khng mun nhn mu Ignacio trn ct. Khng, ti khng mun nhn! Trng hin ra sng t, my dng nga lng yn (2) trong chim bao u trng bun b vi hng dng liu mc quanh ro. Khng, ti khng mun nhn! V nh thng thiu t. Hy nhn vi cy Li! mang v cnh hoa trng.(3) Khng, ti khng mun thy Con b thi thng c th li lim th lng trn mm tro y mu ri xung ct, nhng con b i Guisando, (4) hu nh cht, hu nh ha ku rng sut hai trm nm mt mi dm chn ti ch. Khng. Ti khng mun thy!

Th Federico Garcia Lorca nh tng bn thn cm thch by t nt thng minh. Khng kh thi chin Andalussia chng La M (7) ta ho quang trn u anh, n n ci nh a Cam Tng quyn r v thng thi.. i, ngi u b hin ngang trong u trng! i, k leo ni ti ba trn nh cao! Du dng thay la tr bng! D dn thay ting thc nga! Mong manh thay git sng mai! Sng st thay gia l hi! Khng khip thay gi pht cui (8) ngn lao sau cng m bng m! By gi, anh ng gic mun i. By gi, ru phong v c di mc trn nhng ngn tay ti hoa tr bng trn xng s. By gi dng mu anh ht ca: vang qua m ly v ng c,

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. lt qua nhng sng b lnh ng, l lm v thng trong sng m, i u vi ngn chn b chy nh chic li en di bun ru, lim thnh mt vng thng kh bn dng sng Guadalquivir y sao. , bc tng trng Ty Ban Nha! , con tru en ca kh su ! , mu ng cng ca Ignacio! , ting Sn Ca trong huyt mch! Khng. Ti khng mun nhn! Khng c ly ng, khng th no nut tri, khng c sng sng ng lnh, khng ca ht, khng trn ngp hoa Kn, khng c thy tinh m bc. (9) Khng. Ti khng mun nhn thy!

GHI: (1) Hai cu: Ti khng mun nhn!. v Ti khng mun thy! s by t thi khc nhau. (2) Caballo de nubes quietas, Nga ca my yn tnh. My c hnh dng con nga kh m t di ng. C l Lorca mun ni nhng con nga trong u trng hoc hiu nh Trueblood l cch di chuyn ca trng qua my nh ci nga. (3) on ny nn c li cch dch khc nhau ca cc dch gi cm th ca tc gi. Nu l cy Li mc u trng hay mc mt ni quen thuc trong k nim ca Mejas v Lorca, th cu chuyn st

513

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

ngha phi l: Hy nhn vi cy Li / cng nhng cnh hoa trng. Nu hiu cy Li nh mt tng trng th cu chuyn s l: Hy nhn vi cy Li / mang v cnh hoa trng. (4) Toros de Guisando l bn tng b bng nm trn i Guisando. iu khc thi c xa, gi l verracos.

(5) Y a travs de las ganaderias. V bng qua n gia sc (n b) hoc ni nui b. Xem nhng bn dch khc nhau (6) Serville, thnh ph ln nht Tay Ban Nha. (7) Andalusia l mt tnh ln th hai Ty ban Nha. Ngy xa l ni chin a ca trn nh ln vi La M do danh tng Hannibal Barca ch huy. (8) Qu tremendo con las ltiima / banderillas de tiniebla!. "How tremendous at the last / banderillas of darkness!", bn dch ca A.S. Kline. (9) on cui cng, c cch dch ca Brian Cole, rt thot v c l din t ng hn khi t ch why vo nhiu cu. Khin cho ting hi rt ta thn.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Por las gradas sube Ignacio con toda su muerte a cuestas. Buscaba el amanecer, y el amanecer no era. Busca su perfil seguro, y el sueo lo desorienta. Buscaba su hermoso cuerpo y encontr su sangre abierta. No me digis que la vea! No quiero sentir el chorro cada vez con menos fuerza; ese chorro que ilumina los tendidos y se vuelca sobre la pana y el cuero de muchedumbre sedienta. Quin me grita que me asome! No me digis que la vea! No se cerraron sus ojos cuando vio los cuernos cerca, pero las madres terribles levantaron la cabeza. Y a travs de las ganaderas, hubo un aire de voces secretas que gritaban a toros celestes mayorales de plida niebla. No hubo prncipe en Sevilla que comparrsele pueda, ni espada como su espada ni corazn tan de veras. Como un ro de leones su maravillosa fuerza,
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2. La Sangre Derramada
Que no quiero verla! Dile a la luna que venga, que no quiero ver la sangre de Ignacio sobre la arena. Que no quiero verla! La luna de par en par. Caballo de nubes quietas, y la plaza gris del sueo con sauces en las barreras. Que no quiero verla! Que mi recuerdo se quema. Avisad a los jazmines con su blancura pequea! Que no quiero verla! La vaca del viejo mundo pasaba su triste lengua sobre un hocico de sangres derramadas en la arena, y los toros de Guisando, casi muerte y casi piedra, mugieron como dos siglos hartos de pisar la tierra. No. Que no quiero verla!

Th Federico Garcia Lorca y como un torso de mrmol su dibujada prudencia. Aire de Roma andaluza le doraba la cabeza donde su risa era un nardo de sal y de inteligencia. Qu gran torero en la plaza! Qu buen serrano en la sierra! Qu blando con las espigas! Qu duro con las espuelas! Qu tierno con el roco! Qu deslumbrante en la feria! Qu tremendo con las ltimas banderillas de tiniebla! Pero ya duerme sin fin. Ya los musgos y la hierba abren con dedos seguros la flor de su calavera. Y su sangre ya viene cantando: cantando por marismas y praderas,

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. resbalando por cuernos ateridos, vacilando sin alma por la niebla, tropezando con miles de pezuas como una larga, oscura, triste lengua, para formar un charco de agona junto al Guadalquivir de las estrellas. Oh blanco muro de Espaa! Oh negro toro de pena! Oh sangre dura de Ignacio! Oh ruiseor de sus venas! No. Que no quiero verla! Que no hay cliz que la contenga, que no hay golondrinas que se la beban, no hay escarcha de luz que la enfre, no hay canto ni diluvio de azucenas, no hay cristal que la cubra de plata. No. Yo no quiero verla!!

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

2. The Spilled Blood

Bn dch: Alan S. Trueblood. No, I refuse to see it! Tell the moon to come, I refuse to see the blood of Ignacio on the sand. No, I refuse to see it! The moon open wide. trotting through quiet clouds and the gray bullring of a dream with willows at the palings. No, I refuse to see it! The remembering burns. Send word to the jasmine to bring its tiny whiteness. No, I refuse to see it! The cow of the ancient world was running her dreary tongue over a snoutfuls of blood spilled across the sand, and the bulls of Guisando, almost death and nearly stones, lowed like two centuries tired of treading earth.
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No. I refuse to see it! Ignacio mounts the steps, shouldering his full death. He looked for daybreak and daybreak there was none. He seeks the clean line of his profile and sleep leads him astray. He looked for his shapely body and found his gaping blood Don't tell me I have to see it, I don't want to feel the spurts slowly subsiding, the gushes glistening on the bleachers, spilling on the corduroy and leather of bloodthirsty masses. Who shouts for me to come look? Don't tell me I have to see it. His eyes did not shut when he saw the horns close in but the terrible mothers lifted their heads to watch. And sweeping the herds of cattle came an air of secret voices called out to bulls of heaven by pale ranchers of mist. No prince ever was in Seville that could even approach him,

Th Federico Garcia Lorca no sword like his sword, no heart so truly a heart. Like a river of lions the marvel of his strength, and like a marble torso the contour of his prudence. An air of Rome's Andalussia hung golden about his head, while his laughter was as spikenard all intelligence and wit. What a great fighter in the ring! What a good mountaineer on the heights! How gentle toward ears of grain! How harsh applying the spurs! How render toward the dew! How dazzling at the fair! How magnificent when he wielded the last banderillas of the dark. But his sleep now is unending. Now mosses and grass pry open with practiced fingers the flower of his skull. And his blood now courses singing, sings through salt marshes and meadows, slides over stone-cold horns, gropes soulless through the mist, comes up against thousands of hooves like some long, dark tongue of sadness, to end in a pool gasping death by the Guadalquivir of the stars.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Oh white wall of Spain! Oh black bull of sorrow! Oh hardened blood of Ignacio! Oh nightingale of his veins! No. I refuse to see it! There's no chalice to contain it, no swallow to drink it up, no glittering rime to chill it, no chant, no outpouring of lilies, no crystal to sheathe it in silver. No. I won't look at it, ever!

2. The Spilt Blood

Bn dch: A.S. Kline. I dont want to see it! Tell the moon to come, I dont want to see the blood of Ignacio on the sand. I dont want to see it! The moon wide open, mare of still clouds, and the grey bullring of dream
518

Th Federico Garcia Lorca with osiers in the barriers. I dont want to see it! How the memory burns me. Inform the jasmines with their tiny whiteness! I dont want to see it! The heifer of the ancient world licked her saddened tongue over a snout-full of blood spilled on the sand, and the bulls of Guisando, part death, and part stone, bellowed like two centuries weary of pawing the ground. No. I dont want to see it! Ignacio climbs the tiers with all his death on his shoulders. He was seeking the dawn, and the dawn was not there. He seeks his perfect profile and sleep disorients him. He was seeking his lovely body and met his gushing blood. Dont ask me to look! I dont want to feel the flow
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14. any more, its ebbing force: the flow that illuminates the front rows and spills over the leather and corduroy of the thirsty masses. Who calls me to appear? Dont ask me to look! His eyes did not shut when he saw the horns nearby, though the terrifying mothers lifted up their heads. And sweeping the herds came a breeze of secret voices, ranchers of the pale mist, calling to the bulls of the sky. There was never a prince of Seville to compare with him, nor a sword like his sword, nor a heart so true. His marvellous strength like a river of lions and like a marble torso the profile of his judgment. The air of an Andalusian Rome gilded his head, while his laughter was a tuberose of wit and intellect. How great a bullfighter in the arena! How fine a mountaineer in the sierra! How gentle with ears of wheat! How fierce with the spurs!

Th Federico Garcia Lorca How tender with the dew! How dazzling at the fair! How tremendous with the last banderillas of darkness! But now his sleep is endless. Now the mosses and grass open with skilled fingers the flower of his skull. And now his blood goes singing: singing through marsh and meadows, sliding down numbed horns, wandering soulless in mist encountering a thousand hooves like a long dark tongue of sadness to form a pool of agony near the starry Guadalquivir. Oh white wall of Spain! O black bull of sorrow! Oh hardened blood of Ignacio! Oh nightingale of his veins! No. I dont want to see it! Theres no cup to hold it, no swallow to drink it, no frost of light to cool it, no song, no deluge of lilies, no crystal to silver it. No. I dont want to see it!!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

2. The spilt blood

Bn dch: Brian Cole. I cannot bear to see it! Go and tell the moon to come, that I cannot bear to see the blood of Ignacio staining the sand. I cannot bear to see it! The moon sheds light far and wide. A horse of still clouds, and the grey dream-arena with willows in the barriers. I cannot bear to see it! How the memory burns. Look out for the jasmine with its small white beads! I cannot bear to see it! The cow of the old world licked with her sad tongue her muzzle stained with the blood that was spilt all over the sand, and the bulls of Guisando, as if dead, as if carved in stone, bellowed like two centuries,
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca tired of treading the earth. No. I cannot bear to see it! Ignacio climbs the steps with all his death on his back. He was looking for the dawn, and there was no dawn. He seeks the certain outline, and his dream confuses him. He was looking for his splendid body and he met his flowing blood. Do not tell me to look at it! I do not want to feel the gush weakening at every pulse; that gush which lightens up the benches, and flows out over the corduroy and the leather of the seated crowds. Who is shouting for me to appear? Do not tell me to glance at it! His eyes did not close when he saw the horns near, but the dreadful Mothers raised their heads. And across the cattle-lands was heard a song of secret voices calling to the heavenly bulls, herdsmen of the pale mist. There was no prince in Seville who could compare with him,
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14. no sword like his sword nor any heart so stout. Like a river of lions his wonderful strength, and like a marble bust his chiselled wisdom. An air of Andalusian Rome gilded his head where his laugh was a lily of intelligence and charm. What a great torero in the ring! A fine peak in the mountain range! How gentle with ears of corn! How hard with the spurs! How tender with the dew! How dazzling in the carnival! How dreadful with the last barbed darts of darkness! But now he sleeps in endless sleep. Now the mosses and the grass open with sure fingers the flower of his skull. And his blood now comes singing, singing in the marshes and the meadows, slipping on icy horns, hesitating lifeless in the mist, stumbling with thousands of hooves, like a broad, dark, sad tongue, to form a pool of agony flowing into the Guadalquivir of the stars. Oh, that white wall of Spain! Oh, that black bull of pain!

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Oh, the tough blood of Ignacio! Oh, the nightingale of his veins! No. I cannot bear to see it! Why is there no chalice to hold it, why no swallows to lap it up; why no frost of light to freeze it, no song, no flood of arum lilies, no crystal overlaying it with silver? No. I cannot bear to see it!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

I do not want to see it! The cow of the ancient world passed her sorrowful tongue over a snout of blood spilled out upon the sand. The bulls of Guisando, almost death, almost stone, roared like two centuries weary with treading earth. No. I do not want to see it! Ignacio mounts the steps with all his death on his back. He looked for the dawn and the dawn was not there. He seeks his confident profile, the dream disorients it. He sought his beautiful body and found his opened blood. Don't say that I should see it! I don't want to feel the jet grow weaker all the time; that jet of blood which lights the terraces, which spills on corduroy and leather of a thirsty crowd. Who calls me to appear! Don't say that I should see it! He did not close his eyes
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2. The Spilled Blood

Bn dch: Merryn Williams. I do not want to see it! Tell the moon to come, I do not want to see Ignacio's blood on the sand. I do not want to see it! The moon is open wide. Horse of quiet clouds, grey bull-ring of a dream with willows on the barriers. I do not want to see it! Because my memory burns. Give warning to the jasmines with their little whiteness.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca seeing the horns come near but they lifted their heads, the terrible mothers. Across the ranches rose a breath of secret voices that foremen of pale mist called to celestial bulls. There was no prince in Sevilla could be compared to him, no sword like his sword and no heart of such truth. Like a river of lions his marvellous strength, and like a marble torso his outstanding wisdom. An air of Andalucian Rome made his head appear golden, and his laugh was a spikenard of wit and intelligence. How great a fighter of bulls! How good a mountaineer! How gentle with the corn and how hard with the spurs! How tender with the dew! How dazzling in the fair! How tremendous with the last banderillas of darkness! But now he sleeps without end. Now the moss and the grass with sure fingers unclose the flower of his skull. And now his blood comes singing
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14. through marshes and through meadows, sliding down stiffened horns, wandering soulless through fog, stumbling on thousands of hooves like a long, dark, sad tongue to form a pool of agony by starry Guadalquivir. Oh white wall of Spain! Oh black bull of sorrow! Oh hard blood of Ignacio! Oh nightingale of his veins! No. I do not want to see it! There is no cup to hold it, no swallows that can drink it, no frost of light to chill it, no song nor flood of lilies, no glass to make it silver. No. I do not want to see it!!

2. The spilt blood

Bn dch: Mark Leech. I will not see it. Say to the coming moon I will not see the blood of Ignacio in the sand. I will not see it.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca The moon spreads wide, steed of quiet clouds, over the arena grey with dreams with willows on the walls. I will not see it. My memory burns. Warn the jasmine with its little whiteness. I will not see it. The ox of the old world passed her sad tongue over the bloody face cast into the sand, and Guisando's bulls part death and part stone bellowed like two ages weary of pacing the earth. No. I will not see it. Ignacio climbs the steps bearing all his death. He sought the dawn and the dawn was gone. He sought his clear profile and dreams plucked him. He sought his perfect body and found his spilled blood. Don't tell me I must see it.
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Ngu Yn. Tp 14. I don't want to feel the spurt each time less strong; the spurt that lights rows of seats and loops over the corduroy and leather of seated crowds. Who calls to show me this? Don't tell me I must see it. His eyes did not close when he saw the horns press in but the terrible mothers raised their heads. Across from the cattle dealers came the rumble of secret voices calling to celestial bulls, the herdsmen in pale mist. There was no prince in Seville that could compare with him, nor sword like his sword nor heart so full of truth. Like a river of lions his marvellous strength, and like a marble body his artist's solidity. Air of Roman Andalusia gilded his head where his smile was a bloom of salt and wisdom. How great a matador in the ring, how great a highlander in the mountains, how mild toward the corn, how hard with his spurs,

Th Federico Garcia Lorca how tender with the dew, how glittering at the fiesta, how great among the last banners of night! Now sleeping endlessly. The mosses and the grass open with their sure fingers the flower of his skull. And his blood comes singing, singing over the swamps and meadows slipping down frozen horns shaking soulless toward the fog falling over a thousand hoofs, like a slow, sad, dark tongue to form a pool of agony beside the star-laid Guadalquivir.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Oh white wall of Spain, black bull of suffering, hard blood of Ignacio, nightingale of his veins No. I will not see it. No chalice can hold it. No swallows can drink it. No frost can freeze it. No song, nor flood of lilies. No crystal can cover it in silver. No. I will not see it.

( Ht phn hai, Mu Chy.)

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ai lm nhn vi lim? iu anh ni khng phi nh vy. Khng ai ht, khng ai khc thm khng ai gic nga, khng ai ui rn: Ni y, ti ch mun nhng i mt m to nhn hnh hi khng bao gi yn ng. Ti mun thy nhng ngi c ging ni cng ci. Chinh phc nga v chinh phc dng sng; nhng ngi ht, tn cng xng ct (3) ming tun y nng v la. Ti mun thy h. Ni bia . Bn xc thn khng sinh lc ny (4). Ti mun h ch cho ti li thot khi ngi dn u b ci cht cm gng.(5) Ch cho ti than khc nh dng sng, ni sng m m i v bi b nghing dc chn xc Ignacio vo lng qun khng cn nghe ting b th hn hn. Anh bin mt trong u trng ca trng nh thi tr gi v au bt ng Anh bin mt trong m khng ting c ht vo khi sng m trng lnh y. Ti khng mun ph mt anh bng khn s anh s quen dn vi s cht. i thi! Ignacio. ng luyn lu ting rng hng say Hy ng ngon, bay cao, yn ngh: i, i dng cng qua i!

3. Xc Thn Cn
Bia l vng trn ni gic m th than khng dng nc, khng hng thng hng lnh Bia l i vai gnh chu thi gian, vi cy nh l, bng tang v tinh t. Ti tng thy ma bun bay thnh sng ging cnh tay b n du dng nh trnh n chiu cao bia khng h tay chn, khng t mu kh. (1) Bi bia hi t ht mm v my xm, xng Chin Chin v ch si khut vo m u, khng ting ng, khng thy tinh, khng la chy ch u trng v u trng v tn khng ro ngn. Ignacio, k ti hoa bm sinh nm ni bia . Anh cht ri. Chuyn g xy ra? Hy nhn anh ta. Cht ph ln anh mu lu hunh nht i ln anh chic u b qu en. (2) Anh cht ri. Ma chy qua ming anh. Hi th cung in tung t ngc lm xung Tnh yu, t v tuyt ri nh l tung si m anh gia cao nguyn gia sc. Ai ang ni g? Mi hi thi m thm lng ng. Xc thn trc mt ang bin tan dn Hnh hi sng ln c ln nh chim Sn Ca s b c khot bi mun ngn l lng (3)

526

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

GHI: (1) para no ser cazadas por la piedra tendida que desata sus miembros sin empapar la sangre - so as not to be caught by the outstretched stone that unties their limbs without drinking their blood. (A.S. Kline. ) - so as not to be caught by stretched stone that loosens their limbs and leaves the blood. (Brian Cole.) - not to be caught by the outstretched stone which loosens limbs, and doesn't soak up the blood. ( Merryn Williams.) (2) Qu u b

(3) Y la vemos llenarse de agujeros sin fondo, V thy trn y nhng l thng khng y. Bn dch ca Alan S. Trueblood: We now see being punctured through and through. Bn dch ca A. S. Kline: And we see it riddled with countless holes. Bn dch ca Brian Cole: We see it pierced with infinite holes. Bn dch ca Merryn Williams: And we see filled with bottomless holes. (4) Delante de este cuerpo con lass riendas quebradas, Trc thn xc ny vi khng sc km ch. ni khng cn sc sng. (5) para este capitn atado por la muerre. Cho ngi nht ny b ci cht tri buc. Xin xem cc bn dch khc nhau.

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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. dice! Aqu no canta nadie, ni llora en el rincn, ni pica las espuelas, ni espanta la serpiente: aqu no quiero ms que los ojos redondos para ver ese cuerpo sin posible descanso. Yo quiero ver aqu los hombres de voz dura. Los que doman caballos y dominan los ros: los hombres que les suena el esqueleto y cantan con una boca llena de sol y pedernales. Aqu quiero yo verlos. Delante de la piedra. Delante de este cuerpo con las riendas quebradas. Yo quiero que me enseen donde est la salida para este capitn atado por la muerte. Yo quiero que me enseen un llanto como un ro que tenga dulces nieblas y profundas orillas, para llevar el cuerpo de Ignacio y que se pierda sin escuchar el doble resuello de los toros. Que se pierda en la plaza redonda de la luna que finge cuando nia doliente res inmvil; que se pierda en la noche sin canto de los peces y en la maleza blanca del humo congelado. No quiero que le tapen la cara con pauelos para que se acostumbre con la muerte que lleva. Vete Ignacio: No sientas el caliente bramido. Duerme, vuela, reposa: Tambin se muere el mar!

3. Cuerpo Presente
La piedra es una frente donde los sueos gimen sin tener agua curva ni cipreses helados, La piedra es una espalda para llevar al tiempo con rboles de lgrimas y cintas y planetas. Yo he visto lluvias grises hacia las olas levantando sus tiernos brazos acribillados, para no ser cazadas por la piedra tendida que desata sus miembros sin empapar la sangre. Porque la piedra coge simientes y nublados, esqueletos de alondras y lobos de penumbra; pero no da sonidos, ni cristales, ni fuego, sino plazas y plazas y otras plazas sin muros. Ya est sobre la piedra Ignacio el bien nacido. Ya se acab; que pasa? Contemplad su figura: la muerte le ha cubierto de plidos azufres y le ha puesto cabeza de oscuro minotauro. Ya se acab. La lluvia penetra por su boca. El aire como loco deja su pecho hundido, y el Amor, empapado con lgrimas de nieve, se calienta en la cumbre de las ganaderas. Qu dicen? Un silencio con hedores reposa. Estamos con un cuerpo presente que se esfuma, con una forma clara que tuvo ruiseores y la vemos llenarse de agujeros sin fondo. Quin arruga el sudario? No es verdad lo que
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. The body here before us hazes over. The luminous form that once held nightingales we now see being punctured through and through. Who is rumpling the shroud? What he says is not so. No one is singing here or weeping in silence, spurring horses, frightening off snakes; here all I want is wide-open eyes to see that body that can never rest. I want to see here the men with harsh voices. Tamers of horses, subduers of rivers, whose bones you hear straining, who sing with mouths full of sunlight and flint. I want to see them here. Here at the stone. By this body with the severed reins. I want them to show me a way out for this captain shackled by death; have them teach me to weep like a river, a river of soft mists and seep banks, that will bear Ignacio's body out of soght and still the double snorting of the bull. Out of sight to the round bullring of the crescent moon that's like a bull stock-still with pain; out of sight into the fishes' songless night and into the white scrub of smoke congealed.

3. Presence of The Body

Bn dch: Alan S. Trueblood. Stone is a forehead where dreams moan, holding no curved water, no frozen cypress. Stone is a shoulder meant to carry time, with trees of tears and ribbons and planets. I have watched gray rains running toward the waves, lifting fragile, riddled arms to avoid being snagged by outcrops of stone which unknit their limbs without soaking in their blood. Because stone gathers seeds and banks of cloud, skeletons of larks, wolves dimming into shadow, but yields no sound, no crystal, no fire yields only endless bullrings without walls. Ignacio the wellborn lies here on stone. He is finished. What has happened? See his face. Death has overlaid him with pale sulphur and given him a minotaur's dark head. He is finished. Rain seeps through his mouth. Air rushes frenzied from his sunken chest and Love, wet to the bone with tears of snow, warms himself among the highland herds. What are they saying? Here rests fetid silence.
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Th Federico Garcia Lorca I don't want them covering his face with kerchiefs to break him in to the wearing of death. Go now, Ignacio. Feed no more the hot bellows. Sleep, soar, repose. The sea dies too!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Now its done! Rain penetrates his mouth. Air rises mad from his sunken chest, and love, soaked with tears of snow, warms himself on the heights among herds. What are they saying? A stinking silence settles. We are with a laid-out corpse that vanishes, with a clear form that held nightingales and we see it riddled with countless holes. Who disturbs the shroud? Its not true what he says! No ones singing here, or weeps in a corner, or pricks his spurs, or frightens off snakes: here I want nothing but open eyes to see that body that cant rest. I want to see the men with harsh voices here. Those who tame horses and subdue rivers: the men who rattle their bones and sing with a mouth full of sun and flints. I want to see them here. In front of the stone. In front of this body with broken sinews. I want them to show me where theres an exit for this captain bound by death. I want them to show me grief like a river that has sweet mists and steep banks to bear Ignacios body, and let him be lost without hearing the double snort of the bulls.

3. The Body Laid-Out

Bn dch: A.S. Kline. The stone is a brow where dreams groan, holding no winding water or frozen cypress. The stone is a shoulder to bear time with trees of tears, ribbons, planets. I have watched grey rains running to the waves lifting their fragile, riddled arms, so as not to be caught by the outstretched stone that unties their limbs without drinking their blood. Because stone collects seeds and banks of cloud, skeletons of larks and twilight wolves, but gives up no sounds, crystals, fire, only bullrings and bullrings, and more bullrings with no walls. Now Ignacio the well-born lies on the stone. Now its done. What passes? Contemplate his form! Death has covered him with pale sulphur given him the head of a dark minotaur.
530

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Let him be lost in the moons round bullring that imitates, new, a bull stilled by pain. let him be lost in the night with no singing of fish and in the white weeds of congealed smoke. I dont want them to cover his face with a cloth, so he can grow accustomed to death that he bears. Go, Ignacio: dont feel the hot bellowing. Sleep, soar, rest: even the ocean dies!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. death has cloaked him in pale sulphur, left him a dark minotaur's head. He is ended. Rain penetrates his mouth. The maddened air rises from his sunken chest and Love, drenched in tears of snow warms itself among the mountain cattle. What do they say? A stinking silence settles, we are in a body's presence, which diminishes from a clear form that held nightingales; we see it pierced with infinite holes. Who crumples the shroud? It's not true what he says! Here no one sings, nor weeps in the corner, nor pricks the spurs, nor drives the serpent off: here I want no more than these round eyes to see this body that cannot rest. I want to see here the hard-voiced men, those that break horses, rule rivers: the men of well-tuned bones, who sing with mouths full of flint and sun. I want to see them here, before the stone, before this body of broken ties. I want them to show me the way out for this captain bound by death. I want them to teach me a river of mourning with soft mists and high banks to take Ignacio's body where it disappears,
531

3. In The Body's Presence

Bn dch: Brian Cole The stone is a brow where dreams mourn without curving water, nor frozen cypresses. The stone is a shoulder to lift the hour with trees of tears, ribbons and planets. I have seen grey rains run to the waves raising their tender, riddling arms so as not to be caught by stretched stone that loosens their limbs and leaves the blood. Stone gathers seed and clouds, lark skeletons, wolves of shadow, but never gives back sound, crystal or fire only arenas, arenas, arenas unwalled. Ignacio the well born lies on the stone. He is ended. What is happening? Regard his features:

Th Federico Garcia Lorca not hearing the bulls' rapid snorts, disappears, in the round arena of the moon that in its youth seems a still, wounded beast, disappears, in night beyond the fishes' unsung night, in the weed of frozen smoke. I don't want them to drape his face in cloth and accustom him to the death he bears. Go, Ignacio. Don't feel the beast's hot roar. Sleep. Fly. Rest. The sea also dies.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. larks' skeletons, and wolves of shadow; but it gives no sound, neither crystals nor fire, only bull-rings, bull-rings, bull-rings without walls. Now the well-born Ignacio lies on the stone. It is finished; what is happening? Look at him: death has covered him with pale sulphurs, and placed on him a dark minotaur's head. It is finished. Rain penetrates his mouth. Air leaves his collapsed chest like a mad thing, and Love, sodden with tears of snow, warms itself above the herds of cattle. What are they saying? A bad-smelling silence. We are with a laid-out body that is fading, with a noble form once rich in nightingales, and we see it filled with bottomless holes. Who is wrinkling the shroud? What he says is not true! No one may sing here, or weep in a corner, or prick his spurs, or frighten the snake: here I want only wide-open eyes to see that body; rest is impossible. Here I want to see men with strong voices, who tame horses and change the course of
532

3. The Body Laid Out

Bn dch: Merryn Williams. The stone is a forehead on which dreams are moaning, no winding water, no frozen evergreens. The stone is a shoulder to carry time with trees of tears, and ribbons, and planets. I have seen grey rain flow towards the waves, lifting its tender riddled arms, not to be caught by the outstretched stone which loosens limbs, and doesn't soak up the blood. For the stone gathers seeds and dark clouds,

Th Federico Garcia Lorca rivers: men whose skeletons rattle and who sing with a mouth full of sun and flints. Here I want to see them. In front of the stone. In front of this broken-reined body. I want them to teach me where there is a way out for this captain bound by death. I want them to teach me a lament like a river which has sweet mists and deep banks, to bear Ignacio's body, and let him disappear without hearing the bulls' double panting. Let him disappear in the round bull-ring of the moon which feigns when young a sad, unmoving beast; let him disappear by night without the singing of fish and in the frozen smoke's white thicket. I do not want his face to be covered with handkerchieves, I want him to grow used to his death. Go, Ignacio. Do not feel the hot roaring. Sleep, soar, rest! The sea dies too!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

3. In The Body's Presence

Bn dch: Mark Leech The stone is a brow where dreams mourn without curving water, nor frozen cypresses. The stone is a shoulder to lift the hour with trees of tears, ribbons and planets. I have seen grey rains run to the waves raising their tender, riddling arms so as not to be caught by stretched stone that loosens their limbs and leaves the blood. Stone gathers seed and clouds, lark skeletons, wolves of shadow, but never gives back sound, crystal or fire only arenas, arenas, arenas unwalled. Ignacio the well born lies on the stone. He is ended. What is happening? Regard his features: death has cloaked him in pale sulphur, left him a dark minotaur's head. He is ended. Rain penetrates his mouth. The maddened air rises from his sunken chest and Love, drenched in tears of snow
533

Th Federico Garcia Lorca warms itself among the mountain cattle. What do they say? A stinking silence settles, we are in a body's presence, which diminishes from a clear form that held nightingales; we see it pierced with infinite holes. Who crumples the shroud? It's not true what he says! Here no one sings, nor weeps in the corner, nor pricks the spurs, nor drives the serpent off: here I want no more than these round eyes to see this body that cannot rest. I want to see here the hard-voiced men, those that break horses, rule rivers: the men of well-tuned bones, who sing with mouths full of flint and sun. I want to see them here, before the stone,

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. before this body of broken ties. I want them to show me the way out for this captain bound by death. I want them to teach me a river of mourning with soft mists and high banks to take Ignacio's body where it disappears, not hearing the bulls' rapid snorts, disappears, in the round arena of the moon that in its youth seems a still, wounded beast, disappears, in night beyond the fishes' unsung night, in the weed of frozen smoke. I don't want them to drape his face in cloth and accustom him to the death he bears. Go, Ignacio. Don't feel the beast's hot roar. Sleep. Fly. Rest. The sea also dies

( Ht Phn Ba, Xc thn cn .)

534

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

4. Vng Bng Linh Hn

Con b khng bit anh, cy Sung cng khng, con nga khng bit, n kin trong nh khng bit. Tr con khng bit, bui chiu cng khng, v anh cht tr thnh vnh vin. Lng bia khng bit anh l ai, vi en lim xung m cng khng bit. K c im lng khng bit anh v anh cht tr thnh vnh vin. Ma thu tr li vi n c Sn sng ph vn nho, m m i ni nhng khng ai chu nhn su mt anh v anh cht tr thnh vnh vin. V anh cht tr thnh vnh vin nh mi ngi ri b ci i nh mi ngi cht b lng qun nh ng ch cht ch tiu hy. Khng ai bit anh. Khng ai. Nhng ti ht v anh ngi ca cuc i, phong , cho hu th. Tr tu anh xut sc trng thnh. Lng khao kht cht ngm trn mi hng v Ni mun phin m xuyn nim can m hn hoan. Cn lu lm, mi c th thy li, mt ngi Andalusia can m rt ti ba. Ti ngi ca phong thi ca anh bng li ca iu nh ngi khi rng -Liu th thm.
535

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Note: (1) No te conoce el lomo de la pierdra. "lomo": back, lng (con vt). (2) on 4 cu ny c nhiu khc bit gia Alan S. Trueblood v A.S. Kline. Bn ca Kline, st ngha hn. Bn ca Trueblood bay bm hn. (3) Tu apetencia de muerte y el gusto de su boca. " Of your appetite for death and taste of its mouth", bn dch A.S. Kline.

4.. Alma Ausente

No te conoce el toro ni la higuera, ni caballos ni hormigas de tu casa. No te conoce tu recuerdo mudo porque te has muerto para siempre. No te conoce el lomo de la piedra, ni el raso negro donde te destrozas. No te conoce tu recuerdo mudo porque te has muerto para siempre. El otoo vendr con caracolas, uva de niebla y montes agrupados, pero nadie querr mirar tus ojos porque te has muerto para siempre. Porque te has muerto para siempre, como todos los muertos de la Tierra, como todos los muertos que se olvidan en un montn de perros apagados. No te conoce nadie. No. Pero yo te canto. Yo canto para luego tu perfil y tu gracia. La madurez insigne de tu conocimiento.
536

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Tu apetencia de muerte y el gusto de su boca. La tristeza que tuvo tu valiente alegra. Tardar mucho tiempo en nacer, si es que nace, un andaluz tan claro, tan rico de aventura. Yo canto su elegancia con palabras que gimen y recuerdo una brisa triste por los olivos.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

4. Absence of The Soul

Bn dch: Alan S. Trueblood The bull does not know you, nor the fig tree, nor horses, nor the ants on your floors. The child does not know you, nor the evening, because your death is forever. The saddleback of rock does not know you, nor the black satin where you tore apart. Your silent recollection does not know you because your death is forever. Autumn will return bringing snails, misted-over-grapes, and clustered mountains, but none will wish to gaze in your eyes because your death is forever. Because your death is forever, like everyone's who ever died on Earth, like all dead bodies discarded on rubbish heaps with mongrels' corpses. No one knows you. No one. But I sing you 537

sing your profile and your grace, for later on. The signal ripeness of your mastery. The way you sought death out, savored its taste. The sadness just beneath your gay valor. Not soon, if ever, will Andalusia see so towering a man, so venturesome. I sing his elegance with words that moan and remember a sad breeze in the olive groves.

4. The Soul Absent

Bn dch: A.S. Kline Neither the bull nor the fig tree know you, nor your horses, nor the ants under your floor. Neither the child nor the evening know you, because you have died forever. The spine of rock does not know you, nor the black satin where you are ruined, Your mute remembrance does not know you, because you have died forever. Autumn will come with its snails, grapes in mist, and clustered mountains,

Th Federico Garcia Lorca but no one will want to gaze in your eyes, because you have died forever. Because you have died forever, like all the dead of the Earth, like all the dead forgotten in a pile of lifeless curs. No one knows you. No. But I sing of you. I sing for others your profile and grace. The famed ripeness of your understanding. Your appetite for death, pleasure in its savour. The sadness your valiant gaiety contained. Not for a long time, if ever, will there be born, an Andalusian so brilliant, so rich in adventure. I sing his elegance in words that moan, and remember a sad breeze through the olivetrees

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. mist-fleshed grapes and gathered mountains, but no one will want to meet your eyes because you are dead, always. Because you are dead always, like all the dead of the earth, like all the dead forgotten in heaps of quenched dogs, no one knows you. No one. But I sing you. I sing for the future of your profile and grace, the sage direction of your mind, your urge for death and the taste of its mouth, the sadness that pierced your joyful courage. Much time will pass before there is again an Andalusian so pure, so rich with adventure. I sing his elegance with words that moan, recalling a sad breeze among olive branches.

4. The Absent Soul

Bn dch: Brian Cole It does not know you, the bull, nor the fig tree. Horses do not, nor the ants of your house. Neither the child nor the evening knows you because you are dead, always. It does not know you, the stony hillside, nor the black silk where you decay. It does not know you, your mute memory, because you are dead, always. The autumn will come with snails,
538

4. Absent Soul
Bn dch: Merryn Williams The bull does not know you, nor the fig tree, nor the horses nor the ants of your house. The child does not know you, nor does the afternoon, because you have died for ever. Translated by Merryn Williams The back of the stone slab does not know you,

Th Federico Garcia Lorca nor the black satin shroud in which you crumble. Your silent remembrance does not know you because you have died for ever. The autumn will come, shepherds blowing conch-shells, misty grapes, and clusters of hills, but no one will want to look into your eyes because you have died for ever. Because you have died for ever, like all of the dead of this earth, like all the dead who are forgotten in a heap of uncared-for dogs. Nobody knows you. No. But I sing of you. I sing of your grace for posterity. Your profile, your maturity of thought. Your love for death and the taste of his mouth. The sadness in your light-hearted courage. Not for a long time will be born, if at all, an Andalucian so noble. I sing of his elegance in words that moan, and remember a sad breeze among the olives.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Horses do not, nor the ants of your house. Neither the child nor the evening knows you because you are dead, always. It does not know you, the stony hillside, nor the black silk where you decay. It does not know you, your mute memory, because you are dead, always. The autumn will come with snails, mist-fleshed grapes and gathered mountains, but no one will want to meet your eyes because you are dead, always. Because you are dead always, like all the dead of the earth, like all the dead forgotten in heaps of quenched dogs, no one knows you. No one. But I sing you. I sing for the future of your profile and grace, the sage direction of your mind, your urge for death and the taste of its mouth, the sadness that pierced your joyful courage. Much time will pass before there is again an Andalusian so pure, so rich with adventure. I sing his elegance with words that moan, recalling a sad breeze among olive branches.

4. The Absent Soul

Bn dch: Mark Leech. It does not know you, the bull, nor the fig tree.

539

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Federico Garcia Lorca

540

Poeta en Nueva York

(Tranh v dng cho cc mn din th ca F.G. Lorca)

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Dn nhp Poeta en Nueva York, Thi s trong thnh ph New York.

Frderico Garcia Lorca n ving thm New York trong thi gian t thng Su nm 1929 cho n thng Ba nm1930. Cng trong thi im ny, th ca ng bc vo mt khc quanh khc. Sau giai on khm ph, th nghim, ng to cho mnh mt phong cch mi v sng tc. Xa dn nhng truyn thng Ty Ban Nha, nhng nhc iu dn ca, ng tr thnh mt thi s tin phong trong dng th th gii lc ng thi. Lorca n New York vo thi gian th trng chng khon kinh nghim ln u tin b sp v s khng hong kinh t t New York n ton cu bt u. y cng l mt l do ti sao th ca Lorca y nhng chua cht v bi quan. Tp th Thi S Trong Thnh Ph New York chia ra thnh 10 phn: Phn 1 n 3, vit lc ng mi n New York. Phn 4 n 6, vit ti Vermont. Phn 7 n 9, vit khi ng tr li New York. Phn 10, vit trong chuyn thm ving Havana. Trch mt on trong th gi v gia nh, ng vit: Tht l ngu ngc d ch th c din t s rng ln, nhng ta nh chc tri v xe c giao thng y. Tt c nhng g ti k u thiu st. C x Granada ca chng ta ch bng ba ta lu m thi. C th nhn ni dung tp th ny trong ba kha cnh: X hi, ghi li nhng suy ngh ca ng v New York v i sng vn minh ca Hoa K. Kha cnh tnh cm l nhng tm s m u. V kha cnh tm linh l s tht vng ca nim tin. Cng nh tm trng ca a s ngi ngoi quc mi n Hoa K, cha hi nhp hiu nhng kt qu khc hn ca x hi v cch giao t ca ngi bn x, Lorca a ra nhiu phn xt than trch hoc ch trch i sng vn minh ang n tng nhng tm a en ti v nhng nhm chn ca x hi my mc. Phn li khng phi l phn quan trng trong tp th ny. Phn ng quan tm l s bin chuyn cch s dng hnh nh v cch din bin t ng trong cch by t th ca ng. Ngh thut th Siu Thc trn ngp trong thi im ny. C th ni l ln nh cao ca th mi trong thi im . Trong nhng tp th sau, chng ta s thy c s lng ng ca Siu Thc sau khi bng n. ng quen thuc v mt i nhit huyt v Siu Thc nh lc khi u. V sau th ca ng thm trm, du m hn v t to mt loi Siu Thc kiu Lorca. Kha cnh chiu su ca tm hn, c th cm nhn qua mt phn bi th Panorama ciego de Nueva York, Nu khng phi l chim hy ly tro ph kn, Nu khng phi ting rn g trn ca s m tn hn, s l sinh vt thch th trn khng trung bay vi mu ti t bng en vnh vin.
541

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Nhng khng, khng phi l chim. v chim s nhanh chng ha thnh b. Vi nh trng p, chim tr thnh trng v lun lun l cu tr b thng trc khi quan ta gi tm khn. (1) Ai cng bit su au ni lin vi ci cht, s tht ni bun khng trong hn. Khng c trong khng gian, khng c trong i sng, khng c trn mi nh y khi bay. Bun tht s lm chung quanh thc tnh mt cht thi nhng chy trin min trong con mt v tm ca c tri. (2) (3)

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Nm 1936, Lorca gi bn tho Poeta en Nueva York li trn bn vit ca nh in Madrid vi mt ghi ch ngn, "Ngy mai s tr li". C l bn tho chi tit v in n. Nhng ngy mai khng bao gi c. ng cha kp tr li b bt v b thm st bi thnh phn cch mng qu khch khi cuc ni chin bt u. Mi n nm 1940, Thi S trong Thnh Ph New York mi c n hnh. c Thi S Trong Thnh Ph New York , c th kt lun, mc d nhng nhn xt ca ng khng hn ng. S bi quan ca ng thiu mt kia ca bi quan tc l lc quan. S tht hin nhin khi bc sang th k 21, i sng lun lun l bia quan v lc quan. l thi ca tm tnh. Hoc bi hoc lc. K t c tinh ty ca i sng khng phi l k v hiu ha bi v lc. Chnh l k xem thng bi v lc, ngha l xem thng thi ca tm tnh, tm s, tm t. Xem thng y c ngha l n mt ba cm, ngon th tt, d cng khng sao. Nhng quan trng l ng lc v c cu th m ng sng tc, li cho ngi i sau mt ngha th no l s sng to vt qua gii hn ca mt thi s ln trong khi nhng k khc ng li trc nhng vch tng cn ngn cao ngt. Nhng bc tng ca mt ngoi l gio iu m bn trong l lng s hi v tham lam. C th ni, khng ch thi s trong thnh ph New York m chnh New York trong thi s. Ch c vy, v thc hoc m th mi c th t ng vit ra nhng dng th khng th vit lc bnh thng: Trong mun trng mt git mu vt;
542

Th Federico Garcia Lorca trong phn ly mt git mu thy th; trong hi ng mt dng sng mu m m. Dng sng va tri va ca ht chy qua phng ng trong ph th long lanh, gn b v v thng trong bnh minh a din New York. Bit c li thot trn ni. Mang knh mt lch lm. Nhng ta n y khng nhn tri. ngm mu o m, mu s qut tri c gii vo thc v linh hn vo li rn h mang. Tng ngy New York, ngi ta t bn triu con vt, nm triu con heo, hai ngn b cu tha mn li nm ca ci cht, mt triu con b, mt triu con cu, v hai triu con g, khin t tri tan tc. ( Trch Nueva York. Trong Poeta en Nueva York. )(4)

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

on th ngn ny cho thy ti hoa ca Lorca. Ng lc mnh v sc so. Cu trc gy gn, y nhng ngc nhin khi hnh nh ti tp ph u cm nhn. Ton th c cu ca on th l nhng lp dy bao bc tng th v mt New York v nhn tnh. Xt v tnh kh, ng rt cc oan khi nhn xt v i sng vn minh. Theo tm trng chung ca a s ngh s u Chu trong thi ny, h ngn ngm v khi r cuc i my mc v vt cht. Xt v ngh thut, qu tht ng t c tinh hoa ca Siu Thc. Siu thc khng phi ch l rp ni nhng hnh nh k l v ngha l, v lun cn ca l tr v suy ngh. Nhng hnh nh tht s ca Siu Thc a s n t m thc, mt th say m ca m ngy, ca tng tng t nhng quan st v nghin ngm lu nm. Hnh nh trong t n mt cch t nhin v t ng. V thc t n s
543

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

to ra nhng dn dng ring cho cu trc v lun l ring cho s cm nhn. C cu thnh hnh do v thc. Bi l lun ca v thc, cch dn dng ngoi vng kim sot ca tr tu nhng khng phi l khng c. T n s to ra lc cm nhn. Ngi c t dng s cm ra nhng iu, nhng tm trng, tm s ca thi s. Th Siu Thc gi s n bng l tr sp t v hon ton sai lm v ngi c s khng cm nhn c g v bi th tht ra ch l mt tr chi rp cnh, rp ch (buzzle game). Ghi: (1) Cch x n cu ngi Anh thuc a (2) Sistema: H thng. Nhng phn ng t ng kt hp ra kt qu. (3) Si no son los pjaros cubiertos de ceniza, si no son los gemidos que golpean las ventanas de la boda, sern las delicadas criaturas del aire que manan la sangre nueva por la oscuridad inextinguible. Pero no, no son los pjaros. Porque los pjaros estn a punto de ser bueyes. Pueden ser rocas blancas con la ayuda de la luna y son siempre muchachos heridos antes de que los jueces levanten la tela. Todos comprenden el dolor que se relaciona con la muerte, pero el verdadero dolor no est presente en el espritu. No est en el aire, ni en nuestra vida, ni en estas terrazas llenas de humo. El verdadero dolor que mantiene despiertas las cosas es una pequea quemadura infinita en los ojos inocentes de los otros sistemas. ( Blind panorama of New York Bn dch: The Leopard If it is not the birds covered with ash,
544

Th Federico Garcia Lorca if it is not groans that beat on the windows during the wedding, it will be the delicate creatures of the air that flow with new blood in perpetual darkness. But no, it is not the birds. Because the birds will soon become oxen. With the moons help they can become white rocks and are always wounded boys before the judges lift the cloth. All know of the sorrow intertwined with death, but true sorrow is not found in the spirit. Nor in the air, nor in our lives, nor in terraces teeming with smoke. True sorrow that keeps things awake is a tiny but incessant burn in the innocent eyes of other systems. ) (4) Debajo de las multiplicaciones hay una gota de sangre de pato. Debajo de las divisiones hay una gota de sangre de marinero. Debajo de las sumas, un ro de sangre tierna. Un ro que viene cantando por los dormitorios de los arrabales, y es plata, cemento o brisa en el alba mentida de New York. Existen las montaas, lo s. Y los anteojos para la sabidura, Lo s. Pero yo no he venido a ver el cielo. Yo he venido para ver la turbia sangre, la sangre que lleva las mquinas a las cataratas y el espritu a la lengua de la cobra. Todos los das se matan en New York
545

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca cuatro millones de patos, cinco millones de cerdos, dos mil palomas para el gusto de los agonizantes, un milln de vacas, un milln de corderos y dos millones de gallos que dejan los cielos hechos aicos. ( Trch Nueva York.)

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

546

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

POET IN NEW YORK. Th Tuyn

THI S TRONG THNH PH NEW YORK.

Quay V Sau Khi Tn B

Tri m hi ta, gia nhng hnh thi chuyn di hnh con rn v nhng dng hnh ang tm kim thy tinh, Tc ta mc di ra. Vi cy ct nhnh khng cn ht a b mt trng nhn nh trng. Vi n th nh ct u nhng tm gi rch b chn kh trong nc. Tt c mi mt, ic v cm con bm cht chm trong nghin mc. Gp mt mi ngy mi khc nhau. i, Tri m hi ta!

547

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Vuelta de Paseo
Asesinado por el cielo, entre las formas que van hacia la sierpe y las formas que buscan el cristal, dejar crecer mis cabellos. Con el rbol de muones que no canta y el nio con el blanco rostro de huevo. Con los animalitos de cabeza rota y el agua harapienta de los pies secos. Con todo lo que tiene cansancio sordomudo y mariposa ahogada en el tintero. Tropezando con mi rostro distinto de cada da. Asesinado por el cielo!

Back From A Walk

Assassinated by the sky, between the shapes that move towards the serpent and those that move towards the glass, I'll let my hair grow. With the tree of amputated limbs, unsinging, and the child with the blank face of an egg. With little broken-headed animals and ragged, dry-footed water. With all that is exhausted, deaf and dumb and the butterfly drowned in the inkwell. Stumbling with my different face each day. Assassinated by the sky! ( Bn dch: Merryn Williams

548

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

After a Walk
Cut down by the sky. Between shapes moving toward the serpent and crystal-craving shapes, I'll let my hair grow. With the amputated tree that doesn't sing and the child with the blank face of an egg. With the little animals whose skulls are cracked and the water, dressed in rags but with dry feet With all the bone-tired, deaf-and-dumb things and a butterfly drowned in the ink-well. Bumping into my own face, different each day. Cut down by the sky! ( Bn dch: Greg Simon and Steven F. White)

Return from a walk

Assassinated by the sky, between forms moving towards the serpent and forms that seek the crystal, With the tree stumps that do not sing and the boy with the face of white egg. With the little animals with broken heads and the tatter of dry-footed water.. With the deaf-mutes of weariness and the butterfly drowned in the inkwell. Stumbling over my face different each day, assassinated by the sky! ( Bn dch: Jim Doss)

549

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Bnh Minh
Bnh minh New York c bn ct bn xm mt cn bo ton b cu en bn tung to nc mi hi hm. Bnh minh New York rn la trn cu thang thot him rng ln i tm gia vm cong nhng iu khc hnh Cam Tng su kh Bnh minh n khng c ai cho n mt li no (1) bi sm mai v hy vng khng th v y. i khi, nm ng tin gin d c khot nut ti m tr m ci. Nhng k u tin ra ng hiu rt r khng c thin ng khng c nim hy vng (2) tnh thng H bit s i vo bn ly gia mu toan v qui lut gia nhng tr chi v cng vic chn chng. nh sng chm vo dy chuyn v ting ng trong thch thc v lun t khoa hc v cn. on ngi thiu ng tin ra ngoi lo o nh va thot thn t thuyn mu m chm. (1) ...en su boca, bn dch in his mouth. Bnh minh n khng ai n nhn ni ca ming. (2) Deshojados: To deprive of all hopes thay v ngha To strip off the leaves.

550

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

La Aurora
La Aurora de Nueva York tiene cuatro columnas de cieno y un huracn de negras palomas que chapotean las aguas podridas. La aurora de Nueva York gime por las inmensas escaleras buscando entre las aristas nardos de angustia dibujada La aurora llega y nadie la recibe en su boca porque all no hay maana ni esperanza posible. A veces las monedas en enjambres furiosos taladran y devoran abandonados nios.

The Dawn
The New York dawn has four columns of mud and a hurricane of black doves that paddle in putrescent waters. The New York dawn grieves along the immense stairways, seeking amidst the groins spikenards of fine-drawn anguish. The dawn comes and no one receives it in his mouth, for there no morn or hope is possible. Occasionally, coins in furious swarms perforate and devour abandoned children.

Los primeros que salen comprenden con sus huesos que no habr paraso ni amores deshojados; The first to come out understand in their bones saben que van al cieno de nmeros y leyes, that there will be no paradise nor amours stripped a los juegos sin arte, a sudores sin fruto. of leaves: they know they are going to the mud of figures and La luz es sepultada por cadenas y ruidos laws, en impdico reto de ciencia sin races. to artless games, to fruitless sweat. Por los barrios hay gentes que vacilan insomnes como recin salidas de un naufragio de sangre. The light is buried under chains and noises in impudent challenge of rootless science. Throught the suburbs sleepless people stagger, as though just delivered from a shipwreck of blood. [ Bd: Stephen Spender and JL Gili]
551

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Dawn
Dawn in New York has four columns of mire and a hurricane of black pigeons splashing in the putrid waters. Dawn in New York groans on enormous fire escapes searching between the angles for spikenards of drafted anguish. Dawn arrives and no one receives it in his mouth because morning and hope are impossible there: Sometimes the furious swarming coins penetrate like drills and devour abandoned children. Those who go out early know in their bones there will be no paradise or loves that bloom and die: they know they will be mired in numbers and laws, in mindless games, in fruitless labors. The light is buried under chains and noises in the impudent challenge of rootless science. And crowds stagger sleelessly through the boroughs as if they had just escaped a shipwreck of blood.

552

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Vua Harlem
Vi chic mung g ng mc mt con c su, ri nh by kh vo mng. Vi chic mung g. La mun i (1)ng trong la By b hung ung ru (2) say sa qun mt rong ru trong lng xm. ng lo du mnh trong m nm n ni ngi da en khc than trong khi vua mung nhp lc cc v thng nc d ch n ni. Hoa hng chy trn dc theo l khc quanh cui cng trong khng gian, trn mt m t y hoa Ngh by tr vy bt m sc con mt bng bng say m c kh. Phi bng qua cu mi gp ngi da en nhiu chuyn (3) mi hng t phi h c th chm vo trn ta hm hp thm mi da. Nn b qua ngi bn ru mnh (4) tc vng b qua nhng ngi bn ng ng v t tp ni khung vin,(5) khi cn thit nn a qu m ln cao da ngi Do Thi nh con ang run run, ni si bt mp,
553

Th Federico Garcia Lorca cho vua Harlem ht trc m ng, cho c su sp hng di nm ng di nh trng v hn, (6) khng ai cn nghi ng v p mun i trn chi qut bi, bn no,(7) ni ng, xoong nu bp. Hi, thnh ph Harlem, dn Harlem, ngi Harlem! Khng kh au no hn kh au b vt ht mu, mu anh ti rng mnh gia nht thc ti tm, bo lc m, cm v ic gia thi cha nh sng cn vua ca anh ang t ngc trong ng phc gc gian. m rn nt m ra m p con rng la bng ng cm lng. Ph n Hoa k mang con v tin trong t cung nhng cu trai kit sc ri ng gc trn thnh gi. H l nhng ngi Ung ru Whisky cn cao bn ni la ri nut vi mnh tim trn ni hn bng ca gu. m ng vua Harlem cm chic mung cng, mc ly mt c su ri nh by kh vo mng. Vi chic mung . Dn da en bt khc trong hoang mang gia che d v n nng vng, ngi lai en nhai ko cao su (8), mun lm cho na thn mnh ho trng, gi thi gng soi m m lm h hao huyt mch on v cng. M en, M en, M en, M en!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(7) Bn no.

554

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Mu khng m ca trong m, hy i u .(9) Mt anh khng thn thng. Mu gin d chy di ln da, sng trong kh khn ca mi nhn v nh kin ca con tim ,(10) sng di km kp v chic chi qut ca trng thin thai Bc Gii. (11) Mu tm kim trn vn no ng cht vi bt v tro mi Cam Tng, tri nghit ng nghing xung ni thuc a ca hnh tinh cun theo rc ri trn bi bin. Mu nhn thy chy chm ri t ui mt, vt ra t c gai du v mt hoa di hm su. (12) Mu lm hoen m du chn t cn gi v tnh v hy hoi nhng cnh bm trn ca knh. Mu chy v s chy khp ni t trn nc nh v sn thng, t chy dip lc t trong ph n tc vng, rn r di chn ging trc bn tm thao thc, v tan vo bnh minh m vng v khi thuc m. (13) Cn phi thot thn chy thot nhng ng quanh ri n thn trn nhng lu cao v sc mnh ca rng s trn qua khe h ghi li trn thn anh du vt nht thc nht nha mt ni bun gi to nh gng tay phai mu v ha cht hng. Trong ni im lng uyn bc,, u bp, hu bn le li lim sch vt thng ca nh triu ph ang tm ng vua ng ng hay gc ph bn thuc Dim Tiu. (14) Gi rng thi t phng nam, chnh vnh qua vng ly ti tt vo dy thuyn ph thi, nh ng inh vo mng vai.
555

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Gi nam mang theo rng nanh, hoa Hng Dng, ch a, b, c.... v mt by ong Bu cht ui. Nhng lng qun hin ra trong ba git mc trn knh c nhn. Tnh yu hin ra khun mt c thn v hnh trn tn . Ty xng v cnh hoa (15) kt trn my tri mt sa mc y cung l, khng thy bng hng no. Bn tri, bn phi, hng nam, hng bc vy b tng cao khng th vt qua cho chn sng v kim may bng nc. M en, ng nhn vo khe h kim tm mt n mun i. Hy tm kim mt tri ln chnh ng i thnh vn da ku rm r. Mt tri khi xuyn qua khu rng rm khng mun t dng gp n thn. Mt tri thiu hy nhng con s v cha bao gi bng qua chim bao, mt tri xm mnh chm xung dng sng v ting gm ui theo ca c su.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

M en, M en, M en, M en! Khng bao gi con rn, con nga vn, con la tr thnh xanh xao khi cht. Ngi tiu phu khng bit khi no hng cy ku ro b n ng s tt th. Hy ch i di bng mt ca v vua n khi cy c Cn, cy K, cy Tm Ma gy no ng nhng nc nh pha xa tt. M en, lc , ch lc mi c th in cung hn bnh xe p t cp knh hin vi vo t con sc,
556

Th Federico Garcia Lorca ri cui cng nhy ma khng ngi ngn, t nht trong lc hoa ni gin git cht Moses (16) trong lau sy ca thing ng. i da, Harlem ang tr hnh! i da, Harlem b hm da bi m ng trang phc khng u! Li xm x n tai ti, t nhng thn cy v thang my, t nhng tm thp xm, ni dng xe ngc xui vi nhng bnh xe thi thng, (17) qua nhng con nga cht v nhng ti vt vnh, qua v vua ng knh ang tuyt vng c hm ru di ti i dng.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

GHI: (1) Siempre: always. C l st ngha hn l age-old hoc eternal. (2) Ru Anit. Anisette l loi ru thng dng Ty Ban Nha, , B o Nha...v Php. (3) Rumor negro vs. negro blush hoc murmuring black. (4) Brandy: Ru mnh gc t H lan. Lm t nho. Ct 35-60 . Mu ru vng nu. Cng c tui cng m. (5) A todos los asmigos de la manzana y la arena,(Mannzana: Block 'of house', khc ng, khu nh. Arena, khu vn ng ). C ba bn dch: and every friend of apple and sand ca Gr eg v Steven F. White; kill all friends of the street and sand ca Pablo Medina v Mark Statman; and all friends of the apple and the sand,ca Merryn Williams; u kh hiu. Ti ngh rng nn chuyn l B qua tt c nhng ngi bn ng ng v t tp ni khung vin...( y l thi quen ca ngi M en.). (6) Amianto: Asbestos n t c ng Hy Lp, ngha l unquenchable,khng dp tt, khng tiu tan..khng th lm lu m. (7) Bn no. (8) Estiraban gomas: stretched rubbe, bn dch ca Steven F. White:ko di bao cao su. Bn dch ca Merryn Williams: chewed gum, nhai ko cao su. C l chnh hn v l thi quen ca ngi M. (9) Boca arriba: Face up, i din, i ph, ng u..Bn dch ca Pablo Medina v Mark Statman: Blood has no doors in your night, face up. Mu khng m ca cho m ring anh, hy i din vi... ( iu ).
557

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

(10) Espina: spine, thorn, splinter, scruble, doubt. Ti chn ch doubt trong trng hp ny. Pecho:Chest, bosom, breast, heart. Ti chn ch heart. Paisaje:Landscape, scenery, view. Ti chn ch view. Bn dch st nht l ca Greg Simon v Steven F. White: viva en la espina del punal y en el pecho de los paisajes, alive in the dagger's spine and the landscapes' breast, sng trong xng c dao nhn v trong ngc c phong cnh. (11) La celeste luna de Cncer. Cncer: Bc Gii. Trng trong ma 22 thng 5 n 22 thng 7. C th chuyn: Trng ma h thin thai.Nguyn cu: Bajo las pinzas y las retamas de la celeste luna de Cncer. Bn dch ca Greg Simon v Steven F. White: under the pincers and Scotch broom of Cancer's heavenly moon. Bn dch ca Pablo Medina v Mark Statman cn xa hn: under the clamps and small yellow flowers of the celestial moon of cancer. (12) Nctare: Mt hoa. Trong c ng Hy Lp l ru dnh ring cho cc cha thn, "thnh tu". (13) Y estrellarse en una aurora de tabaco y bajo armarillo, bn dch ca Pablo Median v Mark Statman: and crash in a dawn of tobacco and yellow haze. Bn dch ca Greg Simon v Steven F. White: and bust into an aurora of tobacco and low yellow. Bn dch ca Merryn Williams: to smash against a yellow and tobacco-coloured dawn. Cu ny nh ti hiu nn chuyn l: v tan vo bnh minh m vng (bajo amarillo)v m nh khi thuc. (14) Saltpeter: Mt loi ha cht postassium nitrate dng lm thuc pho, thuc sng hoc dng lm gi ti thc phm (15) Corola: Cnh hoa, vng hoa, hp xng, tr nh. (16) Moses l mt thnh tin tri trong kinh thnh. ng dn dn Do Thi v min t ha v nhn 10 iu rng ca Thin Cha. (17) Diente: Rng bnh xe. Donde flotan tus automviles cubiertos de dientes, chuyn l, Ni dng xe xui ngc vi nhng rng bnh xe thi thng. (Phong cch chi xe ca ngi da en, dng nhng mm bnh xe kiu c.)

558

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Oda Al Rey de Harlem

Con una cuchara arrancaba los ojos a los cocodrilos y golpeaba el trasero de los monos. Con una cuchara. Fuego de siempre dorma en los pedernales, y los escarabajos borrachos de ans olvidaban el musgo de las aldeas. Aquel viejo cubierto de setas iba al sitio donde lloraban los negros mientras cruja la cuchara del rey y llegaban los tanques de agua podrida. Las rosas huan por los filos de las ltimas curvas del aire, y en los montones de azafrn los nios machacaban pequeas ardillas con un rubor de frenes manchado. Es preciso cruzar los puentes y llegar al rubor negro para que el perfume de pulmn nos golpee las sienes con su vestido de caliente pia. Es preciso matar al rubio vendedor de aguardiente a todos los amigos de la manzana y de la arena, y es necesario dar con los puos cerrados
559

Th Federico Garcia Lorca a las pequeas judas que tiemblan llenas de burbujas, para que el rey de Harlem cante con su muchedumbre, para que los cocodrilos duerman en largas filas bajo el amianto de la luna, y para que nadie dude de la infinita belleza de los plumeros, los ralladores, los cobres y las cacerolas de las cocinas. Ay, Harlem! Ay, Harlem! Ay, Harlem! No hay angustia comparable a tus rojos oprimidos, a tu sangre estremecida dentro del eclipse oscuro, a tu violencia granate sordomuda en la penumbra, a tu gran rey prisionero, con un traje de conserje. Tena la noche una hendidura y quietas salamandras de marfil. Las muchachas americanas llevaban nios y monedas en el vientre, y los muchachos se desmayaban en la cruz del desperezo. Ellos son. Ellos son los que beben el whisky de plata junto a los volcanes y tragan pedacitos de corazn por las heladas montaas del oso. Aquella noche el rey de Harlem, con una dursima cuchara arrancaba los ojos a los cocodrilos y golpeaba el trasero de los monos. Con una cuchara. Los negros lloraban confundidos entre paraguas y soles de oro,
560

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca los mulatos estiraban gomas, ansiosos de llegar al torso blanco, y el viento empaaba espejos y quebraba las venas de los bailarines. Negros, Negros, Negros, Negros. La sangre no tiene puertas en vuestra noche boca arriba. No hay rubor. Sangre furiosa por debajo de las pieles, viva en la espina del pual y en el pecho de los paisajes, bajo las pinzas y las retamas de la celeste luna de cncer. Sangre que busca por mil caminos muertes enharinadas y ceniza de nardos, cielos yertos, en declive, donde las colonias de planetas rueden por las playas con los objetos abandonados. Sangre que mira lenta con el rabo del ojo, hecha de espartos exprimidos, nctares de subterrneos. Sangre que oxida el alisio descuidado en una huella y disuelve a las mariposas en los cristales de la ventana. Es la sangre que viene, que vendr por los tejados y azoteas, por todas partes, para quemar la clorofila de las mujeres rubias, para gemir al pie de las camas ante el insomnio de los lavabos y estrellarse en una aurora de tabaco y bajo amarillo. Hay que huir, huir por las esquinas y encerrarse en los ltimos pisos, porque el tutano del bosque penetrar por las rendijas para dejar en vuestra carne una leve huella de eclipse y una falsa tristeza de guante desteido y rosa qumica. Es por el silencio sapientsimo
561

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca cuando los camareros y los cocineros y los que limpian con la lengua las heridas de los millonarios buscan al rey por las calles o en los ngulos del salitre. Un viento sur de madera, oblicuo en el negro fango, escupe a las barcas rotas y se clava puntillas en los hombros; un viento sur que lleva colmillos, girasoles, alfabetos y una pila de Volta con avispas ahogadas. El olvido estaba expresado por tres gotas de tinta sobre el monculo, el amor por un solo rostro invisible a flor de piedra. Mdulas y corolas componan sobre las nubes un desierto de tallos sin una sola rosa. A la izquierda, a la derecha, por el sur y por el norte, se levanta el muro impasible para el topo, la aguja del agua. No busquis, negros, su grieta para hallar la mscara infinita. Buscad el gran sol del centro hechos una pia zumbadora. El sol que se desliza por los bosques seguro de no encontrar una ninfa, el sol que destruye nmeros y no ha cruzado nunca un sueo, el tatuado sol que baja por el ro y muge seguido de caimanes. Negros, Negros, Negros, Negros. Jams sierpe, ni cebra, ni mula palidecieron al morir. El leador no sabe cundo expiran
562

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca los clamorosos rboles que corta. Aguardad bajo la sombra vegetal de vuestro rey a que cicutas y cardos y ortigas tumben postreras azoteas. Entonces, negros, entonces, entonces, podris besar con frenes las ruedas de las bicicletas, poner parejas de microscopios en las cuevas de las ardillas y danzar al fin, sin duda, mientras las flores erizadas asesinan a nuestro Moiss casi en los juncos del cielo. Ay, Harlem, disfrazada! Ay, Harlem, amenazada por un gento de trajes sin cabeza! Me llega tu rumor, me llega tu rumor atravesando troncos y ascensores, a travs de lminas grises, donde flotan sus automviles cubiertos de dientes, a travs de los caballos muertos y los crmenes diminutos, a travs de tu gran rey desesperado cuyas barbas llegan al mar.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

563

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The king of Harlem

With a spoon he scooped out the eyes of crocodiles and slapped monkeys' bottoms. With a spoon. Eternal fire slept in the flints and beetles drunk on aniseed forgot the villages' moss. That old man covered with mushrooms was going to the place where the negroes wept meanwhile the king's spoon crackled and the tanks of stinking water arrived. The roses fled along the edge of the last curves of air, and on the piles of saffron children squashed little squirrels with a blush of evil frenzy. You have to cross the bridges to find the negro blush so that the scent of the lung may beat against our temples with its dress of warm pineapples. You must kill the fair-haired seller of brandy, and all friends of the apple and the sand, and you must beat with closed fists the little French beans which tremble, full of bubbles,
564

Th Federico Garcia Lorca so that the king of Harlem may sing with his multitude, that crocodiles may sleep in long rows under the asbestos of the moon, and that no one may doubt the infinite beauty of dusters, graters, coppers, kitchen saucepans. Ah, Harlem, Harlem, Harlem! There is no anguish to compare with your crushed reds, your blood shuddering amid a dark eclipse, your violence - garnet, deaf and dumb in the half-light, your great king imprisoned in a janitor's uniform. The night cracked open and held quiet salamanders of ivory. American girls carried children and coins in their stomachs and boys fainted on the cross where they were stretched. They exist. They are those who drink silver whisky by volcanoes and who swallow little pieces of heart upon the icy mountains of the bear. That night the king of Harlem with a very hard spoon scooped out the eyes of crocodiles and slapped monkeys' bottoms. With a spoon. The negroes wept bewildered between umbrellas and golden suns, mulattos chewed gum, trying to get a white torso, and th e wind clouded mirrors and broke the dancers' veins.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

565

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Negroes, Negroes, Negroes, Negroes. Blood has no doors in your overturned night. There is no flush. Furious blood beneath the skin, living in the thorn of the dagger and in the heart of landscapes, under the tweezers and the furze of the celestial moon of cancer. Blood that seeks, along a thousand routes, deaths of flour, and ashes of roses, rigid, slanting skies, where colonies of planets can roll about the beaches with the flotsam. Blood that gazes slowly, with the tail of the eye, made of dried grasses, underground nectar. Blood rusting the careless trade-wind in a footprint, and dissolving butterflies against the window. It is blood that comes, and will come through the roofs and terraces, from all sides, to burn the chlorophyll of fair-haired women, to groan at the foot of beds before the basins' insomnia to smash against a yellow and tobacco-coloured dawn. One must flee, flee round corners, lock oneself on top storeys, because the marrow of the forest will penetrate through cracks to leave in your flesh a faint print of eclipse a false sadness of a discoloured glove and of a chemical rose. It is in the wisest silence that waiters and cooks and those who scour with their tongues
566

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca the wounds of millionaires seek the king through streets, on saltpetre corners. A south wind of wood, slanting through the black mud spits at broken boats, drives nails into shoulders; a south wind that carries tusks, sunflowers, alphabets and a battery full of drowned wasps. Forgetfulness was expressed by three drops of ink on a monocle, and love by a single invisible face on the surface of the stone. Marrow and corollas formed on the clouds a desert of stalks, and not one rose... To the left, to the right, to south and north, there rises a wall, impassable to the mole, the needle of water. Negroes, do not search for a crevice to find the infinite mask. Search for a great central sun made into a buzzing pineapple. The sun that slips through the woods certain not to encounter a nymph, the sun that destroys numbers and has never crossed a dream, the tattooed sun that goes down river and bellows with alligators in pursuit. Negroes, Negroes, Negroes, Negroes. Never did snake, zebra or mule grow pale at death.
567

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca The woodcutter does not know when the noisy trees he cuts, expire. Wait beneath the vegetable shadow of your king until hemlocks, thistles and nettles disturb the farthest rooftops. Then, negroes, then, then, you can frenziedly kiss bicycle wheels, put pairs of microscopes in squirrels' nests and dance at last, no doubt, while the bristling our Moses almost in the reeds of heaven. Ah, Harlem in disguise! Ah, Harlem, threatened by a crowd of headless costumes! Your murmur reaches me, reaches me through trunks and elevators, through grey metal sheets, where your cars are floating, covered with teeth, through dead horses and petty crimes, through your great and desperate king whose beard reaches the sea. ( Bn dch: Merryn Williams)

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

568

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The King of Harlem

With a spoon he scooped out the eyes of crocodiles and beat the monkeys' behind. With a spoon. Fire of always slept in the flint and the scarabs drunk on anis forgot the moss of the villages. That old man covered with mushrooms went to the place where the blacks were crying while the king's spoon rang and the tanks of rotten water arrived. The roses fled down the edges of the last curves of air, and on mounds of saffron children crushed small squirrels in a flush of stained frenzy. One must cross the bridges and arrive at the black shame so that the lung's perfume hits our temples with its clothing of hot pineapple. One must kill the blond seller of firewater, kill all the friends of the street and sand and one must punch the small Jewish women who tremble full of bubbles, so the king of Harlem sings with the crowd, so the crocodiles sleep in long lines under the asbestos of the moon, and no one doubts the infinite beauty of the feather dusters, the graters, the copper pots and pans of the kitchen. Oh Harlem! Harlem! There is no anguish compared to your oppressed reds, to your blood shaken inside the dark eclipse, to your garnet violence, deaf and mute in the shadows, to your great prisoner king in his janitor's uniform. *** The night had a crack and quiet salamanders of ivory. The American girls carried children and coins in the belly and the boys fainted stretched on the cross. They are. They are the ones who drink silver whiskey next to volcanoes and swallow bits of heart on the frozen mountain of bear. That night the king of Harlem with a very hard spoon scooped out the eyes of the crocodiles and beat the monkeys' behind. With a spoon.
569

Th Federico Garcia Lorca The blacks wept, confused between umbrellas and suns of gold, the mulattos stretched rubber bands, wanting to reach the white torso, and the wind fogged mirrors and broke the veins of the dancers. Blacks. Blood has no doors in your night, face up. There is no shame. Furious blood under the skin alive in the dagger's thorn and in the breast of the landscapes, under the clamps and small yellow flowers of the celestial moon of cancer. Blood that seeks death down a thousand roads, death covered with flour and the ash of fragrant weeds, rigid skies sloping where the colonies of planets roll down the beaches with abandoned objects. Blood that looks slowly out the corner of its eye, made of crushed grass, underground nectars. Blood that rusts the careless winds in a footprint and dissolves butterflies on the window glass. It's the blood that comes, that will come, down flat and tiled roofs everywhere to burn the chlorophyll of blonde women, to moan at the foot of the beds before the sinks' insomnia, and crash in a dawn of tobacco and yellow haze. One must flee, flee past corners and hide in the highest floors because the forest's marrow will penetrate the cracks to leave on your flesh the faint footprint of an eclipse and the false sadness of a faded glove and a chemical rose. *** It's in the wisest silence, that's when the waiters and cooks and those who clean with their tongues the wounds of the millionaires search for the king in the streets or in the angles of saltpeter. A south wind of wood, slanting in the black mud, spits at the broken barges and hammers nails into its shoulders; a south wind carrying fangs, sunflowers, alphabets and a battery with drowned wasps. What we forgot was expressed by three drops of ink on the monocle, love by a single invisible face from the stone's level. Medullas and corollas composed above the clouds a desert of stalks without a single rose.
570

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca *** To the left, to the right, to the south and the north an impossible wall goes up, for the mole and a needle of water. Don't look, blacks, in its crevice to find the infinite mask. Look for the great sun of the center. Turn into a buzzing hive. The sun slides through the forest sure not to find the nymph, the sun that destroys numbers and never has crossed a dream, the tattooed sun that goes to the river and moans pursued by caimans. Blacks. Never did a serpent or zebra or mule pale before dying. The woodsman doesn't know when the clamorous trees he cuts down die. Wait under the vegetable shadow of your king till hemlock, thistle, and nettle trouble the farthest roofs. Then, blacks, then, you can kiss in a frenzy the bicycle wheels, place pairs of microscopes in the nests of squirrels, and dance at last, no doubt, while the bristling flowers murder our Moses close to the rushes of heaven. Oh Harlem disguised! Oh Harlem, threatened by a crowd of headless uniforms! Your rumbling comes to me, your rumbling comes through trunks and elevators, through layers of gray where your cars float covered by teeth, through dead horses and small crimes, through your great desperate king, whose beard reaches the sea. ( Bn dch: Pablo Medina and Mark Statman. )

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

571

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The King of Harlem

With a wooden spoon he dug out the crocodiles' eyes, and swatted the monkeys on their asses. With a wooden spoon. Age-old fire slept in the flints and the beetles drunk on anisette forgot about the moss of the villages. The old man covered with mushrooms was on his way to the place where the black wept while the king's spoon cracked and the vast of putrid water arrived. The roses fled along the blades of the air's last curves, and on the piles of saffron the children flattened tiny squirrels with faces flushed in their stained frenzy. It's necessary to cross the bridges and reach the murmuring blacks so the perfume of their lungs con buffet our temples with its covering of hot pineapple. It's necessary to kill the blond vendor of firewater and every friend of apple and sand, and it's necessary to use the fists against the little Jewish women who tremble, filed with bubbles,
572

Th Federico Garcia Lorca so the king of Harlem sings with his multitude, so crocodiles sleep in long rows beneath the moon's asbestos, and so no one doubts the infinite beauty of feather dusters, graters, copper pans, and kitchen casseroles. Ay, Harlem! Ay, Harlem! Ay, Harlem! There is no anguish like that of your oppressed reds, or your blood shuddering with rage inside the dark eclipse, or your garnet violence, deaf and dumb in the penumbra, or your grand king a prisoner in the uniform of a doorman. The night was cracked, and there were motionless ivory salamanders. American girls were carrying babies and coins in their wombs, and the boys stretched their limbs and fainted on the cross. They are the one. The ones who drink silver whisky near the volcanoes and swallow pieces of heart by the bear's frozen mountains.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

That night the king of Harlem, with an unbreakable spoon, dug out the crocodiles' eyes and swatted the monkeys on their asses. With an unbreakable spoon among umbrellas and gold suns, the mulattoes stretched rubber, thinking anxiously of turning their torsos white, and the wind tarnished mirrors and shattered the veins of the dancers. Black! Black! Black! Black! The blood has no doors in your recumbent night. No blush in your face. Blood rages beneath skin,
573

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

alive in the dagger's spine and the landscapes' breast, under the pincers and Scotch broom of Cancer's heavenly moon. Blood that searches a thousand roads for deaths dusted with flour and ashes of spikenards, rigid, descending skies in which the colonies of planets can wheel with the litter on the beaches. Blood that looks slowly from the corner of an eye, blood wrung from hemp and subway nectars. Blood that rusts the careless trade wind in a footprint and dissolves butterflies in windowpanes. Blood flows, and will flow on rooftop everywhere and burn the blond women's chlorophyll, and groan at the foot of the beds near the washstands' insomnia, and burst into an aurora of tobacco and low yellow. There must be some way out of here, some street to flee down, some locked room on the top floor to hide in, because the forest's marrow will slip through the cracks to leave on your skin the faint trace of an eclipse and the false sorrow of faded glove and chemical rose. Through the all-knowing silence, cooks, waiters, and those whose tongues lick clean the wounds of millionaires seek the king in the streets or on the sharp angles of saltpeter. A wooden wind from the south, slanting through the black mire, spits on the broken boats and drives tacks into its shoulders. A south wind that carries tusks, sunflowers, alphabets,
574

Th Federico Garcia Lorca and a battery with drowned wasps. Oblivion was expressed by three drops of ink on the monocle. Love, by a single, invisible, stone-deep face. And above the clouds, bone marrow and corollas composed a desert of stems without a single rose. To the left and right, south and north, the wall rises, impassable for the mole and the needle made of water. Blacks, don't look in its cracks to find the infinite mask. Look for the great central sun. Turn into a swarm of buzzing pineapple. The sun that slides through the forests, sure that a nymph will not be there. The sun that destroys numbers, and has never crossed a dream, the tattooed sun that descends the river and bellows just ahead of the crocodiles. Black! Black! Black! Black! No serpent, no zebra or mule ever turned pale in the face of death. The woodcutter doesn't know when the clamorous trees that he cuts down expire. Wait in your king's jungle shade until hemlock, thistles, and nettles disturb the last rooftops. Then, blacks, and only then will you be able to frantically kiss bicycle wheels, place pairs of microscopes in squirrel lairs, and dance fearlessly at last while the bristling flowers cut down our Moses in the bulrushes that border heaven.
575

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ay, Harlem in disguise! Ay, Harlem, threatened by a mob of headless suits! I hear your murmur, I hear it moving through tree trunks and elevator shafts, through gray sheets where your cars float covered with teeth, through dead horses and petty crimes, through your grand, despairing king whose beard reaches the sea.

576

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cnh Qun Chng Nn Ma

Ngi n b mp xut hin u tin, o xi gc r v lm t mt da trng. Ngi n b mp ln con mc cht t trong ra ngoi. Ngi n b mp, i th ca mt trng, chy bng nhiu con ng v trnh xa nhng lu cao b li u lu b cu nh trn gc ph khuy ng cn gin d bui lin hoan ca th k va qua mi gi t ma ca cm o qua dy i chy di n chn tri gn lc s kht khao nh sng vo nhng ng hm b mt. Bi tha ma, ng l bi tha ma chuyn bun phin ca n g b chn vi trong t, ci cht, chim Tr (1) v to h khu vc khc, nhn xung c hng chng ta. Tin n t rng nn ma vi ph n rng, vi tr con gi bng sp, vi cy kch ng v ngi hu khng bit mt dn nhng a mui di ting n Hc ca nc ming. Ny cu tr, khng cn cch no khc, hy ma ra! Khng cch no hn. Khng phi ma ca k binh trn v by gi im, khng phi ma ca con mo v tnh nut phi con ch, nhng s cht co cu bng bn tay t st trn cng la ni my v sa mc tiu tn. Ngi n b mp xut hin u tin trc m ng trn tu, trong qun ru v cng vin. Ma kho lo nh ng gin trng gia mt vi c gi nh mu
577

Th Federico Garcia Lorca ang khn cu vng trng bo v h. Ai bit c ni bun ca ti? Nt mt ti, by gi, khng phi l ti, v mt tht s ca ti, run ry v kht ru dn thn vo chuyn tu l thng qua gc hoa Gi (2) Ti che du ti bng v mt ny sng cun tri v ni khng c bnh minh, Ti, thi s ct tay, mt trong m ng nn ma, khng c nhiu nga ly mt rong ru dy trn trn ti. Ngi n b mp xut hin u tin trong lc m ng ang tm tim bn thuc ni c th tm thy ng v tuyn. Ch khi ko c ln v by ch u tin n c thnh ph ko nhau chy ra hng ro ca ng b hnh. GHI: (1) Faisn: G li hoc mt loi Tr t. Xem hnh: (2) Animone: Mt loi hoa c thng mc bc bn cu. Hoa ln, cnh n rng. Ngi ta cn gi l Windflower, hoa Gi.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

578

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Paisaje de La Multitud Que Vomita

La mujer gorda vena delante arrancando las races y mojando el pergamino de los tambores; la mujer gorda que vuelve del revs los pulpos agonizantes. La mujer gorda, enemiga de la luna, corra por las calles y los pisos deshabitados y dejaba por los rincones pequeas calaveras de paloma y levantaba las furias de los banquetes de los siglos ltimos y llamaba al demonio del pan por las colinas del cielo barrido y filtraba un ansia de luz en las circulaciones subterrneas. Son los cementerios, lo s, son los cementerios y el dolor de las cocinas enterradas bajo la arena, son los muertos, los faisanes y las manzanas de otra hora los que nos empujan en la garganta. Llegaban los rumores de la selva del vmito con las mujeres vacas, con nios de cera caliente, con rboles fermentados y camareros incansables que sirven platos de sal bajo las arpas de la saliva. Sin remedio, hijo mo, vomita! No hay remedio. No es el vmito de los hsares sobre los pechos de la prostituta, ni el vmito del gato que se trag una rana por descuido. Son los muertos que araan con sus manos de tierra las puertas de pedernal donde se pudren nublos y postres. La mujer gorda vena delante con las gentes de los barcos, de las tabernas y de los jardines. El vmito agitaba delicadamente sus tambores entre algunas nias de sangre que pedan proteccin a la luna.
579

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Ay de m! Ay de m! Ay de mi! Esta mirada ma fue ma, pero ya no es ma, esta mirada que tiembla desnuda por el alcohol y despide barcos increbles por las anmonas de los muelles. Me defiendo con esta mirada que mana de las ondas por donde el alba no se atreve, yo, poeta sin brazos, perdido entre la multitud que vomita, sin caballo efusivo que corte los espesos musgos de mis sienes. Pero la mujer gorda segua delante y la gente buscaba las farmacias donde el amargo trpico se fija. Slo cuando izaron la bandera y llegaron los primeros canes la ciudad entera se agolp en las barandillas del embarcadero.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

580

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Landscape of A Vomiting Multitude

The fat lady came out first, tearing out roots and moistening drumskins. The fat lady who turns dying octopuses inside out. The fat lady, the moon's antagonist, was running through the streets and deserted buildings and leaving tiny skulls of pigeons in the corners and stirring up the furies of the last centuries' feasts and summoning the demon of bread through the sky's clean-swept hills and filtering a longing for light into subterranean tunnels. The graveyards, yes the graveyards and the sorrow of the kitchens buried in sand, the dead, pheasants and apples of another era, pushing it into our throat. There were murmuring from the jungle of vomit with the empty women, with hot wax children, with fermented trees and tireless waiters who serve platters of salt beneath harps of saliva. There's no other way, my son, vomit! There's no other way. It's not the vomit of hussars on the breasts of their whores, nor the vomit of cats that inadvertently swallowed frogs, but the dead who scratch with clay hands on flint gates where clouds and desserts decay. The fat lady came first with the crowds from the ships, taverns, and parks. Vomit was delicately shaking its drums among a few little girls of blood who were begging the moon for protection. Who could imagine my sadness?
581

Th Federico Garcia Lorca The look on my face was mine, but now isn't me, the naked look on my face, trembling for alcohol and launching incredible ships through the anemones of the piers. I protect myself with this look that flows from waves where no dawn would go, I, poet without arms, lost in the vomiting multitude, with no effusive horse to shear the thick moss from my temples. The fat lady went first and the crowds kept looking for pharmacies where the bitter tropics could be found. Only when a flag went up and the first dogs arrived did the entire city rush to the railings of the boardwalk

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

582

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Thnh Ph Khng Ng
(Cnh m trn cu Brooklyn) Ngoi tri, khng mt ai ng. Khng ai, khng ai. Khng ai ng. Qui vt cung trng nh hi, rnh m quanh ni c ng. K s tn cng, cn k no khng bit chim bao, Ngi s hi tu thot s gp ni gc ng con c su d thng n np di tri sao rt r phn i. Ngoi tri, khng mt ai ng. Khng ai, khng ai. Khng ai ng. Trong ngha a xa xa c mt thy ma ba nm than khc v bn trn u gi phong cnh kh cn. v cu b mi chn sng nay ku go thm thit phi gi ch ti mi chu nn im. i khng phi chim bao. Coi chng! Coi chng! Coi chng! Ta nho xung thang lu n bn t hoc leo ln cnh tuyt bng theo ting gi t Thc Dc ho tn. Nhng khng c chim bao, khng c qun lng: c tht da. Hn cht mi ta trong nhng ng mu gn ri lon k no au thng s mi mi thng au k no s cht s gnh trn vai ni cht. Mt hm n nga s sng trong qun ru l kin hung hng s leo ln khung tri vng ang ln trn trong i mt gia sc.
583

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Hm khc ta s thy bm bm p kh sng li, bay gia phong cnh trong ming xp xm v thuyn b lng im, s nhn thy chic nhn sng bng v hoa hng ri ra t li chng ta. Coi chng! Coi chng! Coi chng! Ngi no cn du ca mng vut v bo st, v cu b khc v cha h bit chuyn pht minh lm chic cu, hoc ngi cht ch cn ci u v mt chic giy, ta phi mang h n chn tng ni k v rn d ch i, ni gu nhe rng ch, ni xc p tr con giang tay i v lng lc dng ng v tn bo rng mnh. Ngoi tri , khng mt ai ng. Khng ai, khng ai. Khng ai ng. Nu c ai nhm mt, ny, hy nh n, nh n hn i! Hy cho hn m mt nhn cnh tng v vt thng cay ng bng ln. Ngoi tri, khng mt ai ng. Khng ai, khng ai. Trc y, ta ni. Khng ai ng. Nhng trong m, trn ca k no b ru phong ph kn, hy m ca mi nh cho nhn thy nh trng ly ru gi, nc c, v u lu ca sn khu.

584

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ciudad Sin Sueo

Nocturno de Brooklyn Bridge
No duerme nadie por el cielo. Nadie, nadie. No duerme nadie. Las criaturas de la luna huelen y rondan sus cabaas. Vendrn las iguanas vivas a morder a los hombres que no suean y el que huye con el corazn roto encontrar por las esquinas al increble cocodrilo quieto bajo la tierna protesta de los astros. No duerme nadie por el mundo. Nadie, nadie. No duerme nadie. Hay un muerto en el cementerio ms lejano que se queja tres aos porque tiene un paisaje seco en la rodilla; y el nio que enterraron esta maana lloraba tanto que hubo necesidad de llamar a los perros para que callase. No es sueo la vida. Alerta! Alerta! Alerta! Nos caemos por las escaleras para comer la tierra hmeda o subimos al filo de la nieve con el coro de las dalias muertas. Pero no hay olvido, ni sueo: carne viva. Los besos atan las bocas en una maraa de venas recientes y al que le duele su dolor le doler sin descanso y al que teme la muerte la llevar sobre sus hombros. Un da los caballos vivirn en las tabernas y las hormigas furiosas atacarn los cielos amarillos que se refugian en los ojos de las vacas.
585

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Otro da veremos la resurreccin de las mariposas disecadas y an andando por un paisaje de esponjas grises y barcos mudos veremos brillar nuestro anillo y manar rosas de nuestra lengua. Alerta! Alerta! Alerta! A los que guardan todava huellas de zarpa y aguacero, a aquel muchacho que llora porque no sabe la invencin del puente o a aquel muerto que ya no tiene ms que la cabeza y un zapato, hay que llevarlos al muro donde iguanas y sierpes esperan, donde espera la dentadura del oso, donde espera la mano momificada del nio y la piel del camello se eriza con un violento escalofro azul. No duerme nadie por el cielo. Nadie, nadie. No duerme nadie. Pero si alguien cierra los ojos, azotadlo, hijos mos, azotadlo! Haya un panorama de ojos abiertos y amargas llagas encendidas. No duerme nadie por el mundo. Nadie, nadie. Ya lo he dicho. No duerme nadie. Pero si alguien tiene por la noche exceso de musgo en las sienes, abrid los escotillones para que vea bajo la luna las copas falsas, el veneno y la calavera de los teatros.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

586

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sleepless City
(Brooklyn Bridge Nocturne) Out in the sky, no one sleeps. No one, no one. No one sleeps. Lunar creatures sniff and circle the dwellings. Live iguanas will come to bite the men who don't dream, and the brokenhearted fugitive will meet on street corners an incredible resting beneath the tender protest of the stars. Out in the world, no one sleeps. No one, no one. No one sleeps. There is a corpse in the farthest graveyard complaining for three years because of an arid landscape in his knee; and a boy who was buried this morning cried so much they had to call the dogs to quiet him.

life is no dream. Watch out! Watch out! Watch out! We fall down stairs and eat the moist earth, or we climb to the snow's edge with the choir of dead dahlias. But there is no oblivion, no dream: raw flesh. Kisses tie mouths in tangle of new veins and those who are hurt will hurt without rest and those who are frightened by death will carry it on their shoulders. One day horses will live in the taverns and furious ants will attack the yellow skies that take refuge in the eyes of cattle.
587

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Another day we'll witness the resurrection of dried butterflies, and still walking in a landscape of gray sponges and silent ships, we'll see our ring shine and roses spill from our tongues. Watch out! Watch out! Watch out! Those still marked by claws and cloudburst, that boy who cries because he doesn't know about the invention of bridges, or that corpse that has nothing more than its head and one shoethey all must be led to the wall where iguanas and serpents wait, where the bear's teeth wait, where the mummified hand of a child waits and the camel's fur bristles with a violent blue chill. Out in the sky, no one sleep. No one, no one. No one sleeps. But if someone closes his eyes, whip him, my children, whip him! Let there be a panorama of open eyes and bitter inflamed wounds. Out in the world, no one sleeps. No one. No one. I've said it before. No one sleeps. But at night, if someone has too much moss on his temples, open the trap-doors so he can see in moonlight the fake goblets, the venom, and the skull of the theaters. (Bn dch: Steven F. White)

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

588

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

City That Does Not Sleep

In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins. The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream, and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the street corner the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the stars. Nobody is asleep on earth. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. In a graveyard far off there is a corpse who has moaned for three years because of a dry countryside on his knee; and that boy they buried this morning cried so much it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet. Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful! We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead dahlias. But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist; flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths in a thicket of new veins, and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders. One day the horses will live in the saloons and the enraged ants will throw themselves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the eyes of cows. Another day we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead
589

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue. Careful! Be careful! Be careful! The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm, and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention of the bridge, or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe, we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes are waiting, where the bear's teeth are waiting, where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting, and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder. Nobody is sleeping in the sky. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is sleeping. If someone does close his eyes, a whip, boys, a whip! Let there be a landscape of open eyes and bitter wounds on fire. No one is sleeping in this world. No one, no one. I have said it before. No one is sleeping. But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the night, open the stage trapdoors so he can see in the moonlight the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the theaters. (Bn dch: Robert Bly)

590

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Con B
Con b b thng qu xung cy v sui ph ngp sng. Mm b chy mu mu tri . n ong bu trn mm nc di nhiu quanh mp. Ting ht hi ko bui sng n chn. Con b, thy ng hng hay mu mt ong t chung cht hay sng rng ln, i mt khp h. K vi ci r thng b mi dao: by gi h lm tht con b. Trn u h, sng n v gn b ti xanh ht mu. Bn mng ch run p ln khng trung. K vi vng trng v m ca mu vng: by gi tro b cng tan bin. By gi ting rng cng mt lun theo tan tc do tri cng rn ni ba n tra say sa bng ci cht.

591

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Vaca
A Luis Lacasa Se tendi la vaca herida; rboles y arroyos trepaban por sus cuernos. Su hocico sangraba en el cielo. Su hocico de abejas bajo el bigote lento de la baba. Un alarido blanco puso en pie la maana. Las vacas muertas y las vivas, rubor de luz o miel de establo, balaban con los ojos entornados. Que se enteren las races y aquel nio que afila su navaja de que ya se pueden comer la vaca. Arriba palidecen luces y yugulares. Cuatro pezuas tiemblan en el aire. Que se entere la luna y esa noche de rocas amarillas: que ya se fue la vaca de ceniza. Que ya se fue balando por el derribo de los cielos yertos donde meriendan muerte los borrachos.
592

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Cow
The wounded cow lay down, trees and streams climbing over its horns. Its muzzle bled in the sky. Its muzzle of bees under the slow mustache of slobber. A white cry brought the morning to its feet. Cows, dead and alive, blushing light or honey from the stables, bellowed with half-closes eyes. Tell the roots and that child sharpening his knife: now they can eat the cow. Above them, lights and jugulars turn pale. Four cloven hoofs trembleb in the air. Tell the moon and that night of yellow rocks: now the cow of ash has gone. Now it has gone bellowing through the wreckage of the roght skies where the drunk lunch on death. (Bn dch: SSteven F. White)
593

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Vaca
(A Luis Lacasa)

Se tendi la vaca herida; rboles y arroyos trepaban por sus cuernos. Su hocico sangraba en el cielo. Su hocico de abejas bajo el bigote lento de la baba. Un alarido blanco puso en pie la maana. Las vacas muertas y las vivas, rubor de luz o miel de establo, balaban con los ojos entornados. Que se enteren las races y aquel nio que afila su navaja de que ya se pueden comer la vaca. Arriba palidecen luces y yugulares. Cuatro pezuas tiemblan en el aire. Que se entere la luna y esa noche de rocas amarillas: que ya se fue la vaca de ceniza. Que ya se fue balando por el derribo de los cielos yertos donde meriendan muerte los borrachos.
594

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Ci Cht
Tht l c gng! Con nga c gng ht sc ha thnh con ch! Con ch c gng ht sc ha thnh chim nhn! Chim nhn c gng ht sc ha thnh con ong! Con ong c gng ht sc ha thnh con nga! Ri con nga, i, mi tn bn nhn gic gi t hoa hng, i, hoa hng u su n t cnh ! Ri hoa hng, i, mt chm nh sng v ting khc mc dnh vo nha sng t thn cy! (3a) Ri nha sng, i, nhng dao nhn m trong thc tnh! Ri dao nhn, i, v gia c, trng tr tri, dao i tm trng mun thu nh hng! Cn ti, trn mi nh mp m i, thin s chy tn bit tm u! Nhng vm cao, rng ln qu, v hnh qu, khonh khc qu, khng cht no c gng ha thn! (8)

595

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Muerte
A Luis de la Serna Qu esfuerzo! Qu esfuerzo del caballo por ser perro! Qu esfuerzo del perro por ser golondrina! Qu esfuerzo de la golondrina por ser abeja! Qu esfuerzo de la abeja por ser caballo! Y el caballo, qu flecha aguda exprime de la rosa!, qu rosa gris levanta de su belfo! Y la rosa, qu rebao de luces y alaridos ata en el vivo azcar de su tronco! Y el azcar, qu pualitos suea en su vigilia! y los puales, qu luna sin establos, qu desnudos!, piel eterna y rubor, andan buscando Y yo, por los aleros, qu serafn de llamas busco y soy! Pero el arco de yeso, qu grande, qu invisible, qu diminuto!, sin esfuerzo.

596

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Death
What effort! What effort the horse makes To be a dog! What effort the dog to become a swallow! What effort the swallow to be a bee! What effort the bee to become a horse! And the horse, what a sharp shaft it steals from the rose! what grey rosiness lifts from its lips! And the rose, what a flock of lights and cries caught in the living sap of its stem! And the sap, what thorns it dreams in its vigil! And the tiny daggers what moon, and no stable, what nakedness, skin eternal and reddened, they go seeking! And I, in the eaves, what a burning seraph I seek and am! But the arch of plaster, how vast, invisible, how minute, without effort!

597

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

New York
Trong mun trng mt git mu vt; trong phn ly mt git mu thy th; trong hi ng, mt dng sng mu m m. Dng sng va chy va ca ht tri qua phng ng trong ph th long lanh, gn b v v thng trong bnh minh a din New York. Ni vn tn ti, ta bit. Mang knh thm thng minh. Ta bit. Nhng khng n y nhn tri. ngm mu u ut, mu tri c gii vo thc v linh hn vo li rn h mang. Tng ngy New York, ngi ta t bn triu con vt, nm triu con heo, hai ngn b cu cho s thng thc ca ngi ang cht, mt triu con b, mt triu con cu, v hai triu con g, khin t tri tan tc. Tt hn nn mi lng khi mi dao hoc git ch khi o mng rt bt hn l phi chu ng bnh minh dng sa bt tn, dng mu trin min Hoa Hng b hi
598

Th Federico Garcia Lorca bi k bn hng thm. Vt v chim cu, heo v cu tung te mu trong toan tnh tnh i, v ting rng thm thit ca n b b tiu dit mang bun su trn ngp thung lng ni b Hudson say sa ung xng du. Ta co trng vi mi ngi nhng k b qun mt na bn kia mt na khng th cu cha nhng k nng cao ni c nhp p con tim trong ng vt hn mn b b qun ni tt c chng ta ng qu trong bui lin hoan sau cng ca luyn tp. Ta nh vo mt cc ngi. Mt na kia nghe thy, n ti nut sng,tiu tin v bay cao vi hn trinh bch, nh a tr gi ca cm chic que d gy n mt ni trng khng c ru ria ca cn trng r st. Khng phi l a ngc, l con ng. Khng phi ngha trang, l tim bn hoa qu. y l th gii ca dng sng tan bin v khong cch v thng trong tay con mo b xe cn nt, ri ta nghe ting ht ca loi su trong tri tim thiu n tr. Th ng, khch ng, th gii lun chuyn Th gii tri theo nhng con s vn phng.
599

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Ta phi lm g? Sp t t ai theo th t? Trt t tnh yu sp b chp hnh, sp thnh tm g v ming y mu? Khng. Khng: Ta xin co trng. Xin co trng mt m mu t nhng vn phng hoang ph khng pht tn su au xa b nhng lut rng, Ta s hin thn lm thc phm cho ai ang tiu dit gia sc khi thung lng trn ngp ting chng ku la ni b Hudson say sa ung cn xng du.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

New York
(Ngha gn v ghi ch) Di bi ton nhn l git mu vt; di bi ton chia l git mu thy th. Di bi ton cng, mt dng sng mu m m. Mt dng sng va chy va ca ht bng qua nhng phng ng vng ngoi , nh kim ngn, xi-mng hoc gi thong trong bnh minh di tr New York. Ni vn tn ti, ti bit. Mang knh cho thng thi, Ti bit. Khng phi n y ngm tri. nhn mu m o, mu s tri c kh vo thc v linh hn vo li rn h mang.
600

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Mi ngy, u c st hi New York bn triu con vt, nm triu con heo, hai ngn b cu cho s thng thc ca ngi ang cht, mt triu con b mt triu con cu v hai triu con g trng, khin cho tri v toang. Tt hn l thn thc lc mi dao hoc khi git ch trong o m sn ui hn l chng i bnh minh dng sa v tn dng mu v bin dy hoa hng tri buc bi ngi bn hng thm. vt v b cu heo v cu mu di s tnh ton, v ting rng thm thit ca n b b tiu dit trn ngp thung lng ni kh au ni b Hudson say sa ung xng du. Ti t co nhng ngi b qun mt na kia, mt na khng th no cu cha nhng k nng ni c nhp p con tim ca ng vt b mn ang b b qun v ni tt c chng ta s ng qu trong bui lin hoan cui cng ca luyn tp. Ti nh vo mt cc ngi.
601

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Na m ngi kia nghe thy n ti nut sng, i, bay cao t trng trong nh a tr gi ca cm chic que yu t n mt ni trng khng c ru ria ca cn trng r st. y khng phi l a ngc nhng l con ng. Khng phi l tha ma nhng l tim bn tri cy. y l th gii ca dng sng tan v v khong cch khng tng, trong tay con mo b xe cn nt, Ti nghe ting ht ca loi su trong tim thiu n tr. R st, dy men, rng ng trn gian Trn gian tri theo nhng con s vn phng. Ti phi lm g? Sp t t ai theo th t? Mang trt t n tnh yu ri nhanh chng s b chp hnh s thnh mt mnh g v mt ming y mu? Khng, khng, ti t co, xin t co m mu ca nhng vn phng hoang ph khng pht tn nim au, xa b nhng lut rng, Ti hin thn lm thc phm cho ai ang tiu dit gia sc khi ting ku ca chng trn ngp thung lng ni b Hudson say sa ung cn xng du.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

602

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. los interminables trenes de sangre, y los trenes de rosas maniatadas por los comerciantes de perfumes. Los patos y las palomas y los cerdos y los corderos ponen sus gotas de sangre debajo de las multiplicaciones; y los terribles alaridos de las vacas estrujadas llenan de dolor el valle donde el Hudson se emborracha con aceite. Yo denuncio a toda la gente que ignora la otra mitad, la mitad irredimible que levanta sus montes de cemento donde laten los corazones de los animalitos que se olvidan y donde caeremos todos en la ltima fiesta de los taladros. Os escupo en la cara. La otra mitad me escucha devorando, orinando, volando en su pureza como los nios en las porteras que llevan frgiles palitos a los huecos donde se oxidan las antenas de los insectos. No es el infierno, es la calle. No es la muerte, es la tienda de frutas. Hay un mundo de ros quebrados y distancias inasibles en la patita de ese gato quebrada por el automvil,
603

Nueva York
A Fernando Vela Debajo de las multiplicaciones hay una gota de sangre de pato. Debajo de las divisiones hay una gota de sangre de marinero. Debajo de las sumas, un ro de sangre tierna. Un ro que viene cantando por los dormitorios de los arrabales, y es plata, cemento o brisa en el alba mentida de New York. Existen las montaas, lo s. Y los anteojos para la sabidura, Lo s. Pero yo no he venido a ver el cielo. Yo he venido para ver la turbia sangre, la sangre que lleva las mquinas a las cataratas y el espritu a la lengua de la cobra. Todos los das se matan en New York cuatro millones de patos, cinco millones de cerdos, dos mil palomas para el gusto de los agonizantes, un milln de vacas, un milln de corderos y dos millones de gallos que dejan los cielos hechos aicos. Ms vale sollozar afilando la navaja o asesinar a los perros en las alucinantes caceras que resistir en la madrugada los interminables trenes de leche,

Th Federico Garcia Lorca y yo oigo el canto de la lombriz en el corazn de muchas nias. xido, fermento, tierra estremecida. Tierra t mismo que nadas por los nmeros de la oficina. Qu voy a hacer?, ordenar los paisajes? Ordenar los amores que luego son fotografas, que luego son pedazos de madera y bocanadas de sangre? San Ignacio de Loyola asesin un pequeo conejo y todava sus labios gimen

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. por las torres de las iglesias. No, no, no, no; yo denuncio. Yo denuncio la conjura de estas desiertas oficinas que no radian las agonas, que borran los programas de la selva, y me ofrezco a ser comido por las vacas estrujadas cuando sus gritos llenan el valle donde el Hudson se emborracha con aceite.

604

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. the interminable blood trains, and the trains of roses, imprisoned for the merchants of scent. The ducks and the doves and the pigs and the lambs lay their drops of blood beneath the calculations; and the terrible outcry of penned-up cattle fills the valley with pain where the Hudson runs drunk on oil. I denounce all those who ignore the other half, the irredeemable half who raise their mountains of cement where beat the hearts of little animals who are forgotten and where we shall all go down in the last jamboree of drills. I spit in your face. The other half listens to me eating, urinating, flying in its purity like the doorkeepers' children who bear fragile sticks to the holes where rust insects' antennae. This is not hell, but a street. Not death, but a greengrocer's stall. Here is a world of tamed rivers and unreachable distances, in that cat's paw smashed by a car, and I hear the song of the worm in the hearts of many girl children. Rust, ferment, shaking of earth.
605

New York
Bn dch: Merryn Williams to Fernando Vela Beneath the multiplications is a drop of duck's blood. Beneath the divisions is a drop of the blood of a sailor. Beneath the statistics, a river of fresh blood; a river which comes singing through the bedrooms of the suburbs, and is silver, cement or breeze in New York's mendacious dawn. The mountains exist, I know. And the eyeglasses for wisdom, I know. But I have not come to look at the sky. I have come to see the obscure blood, the blood that carries the machines to the waterfalls and the spirit to the tongue of the cobra. Every day there are killed in New York four million ducks, five million pigs, two thousand doves, to titillate the dying, one million cows, one million lambs and two million cocks that leave the sky in splinters. Better to sob as you sharpen the razor or kill dogs in the dreamlike hunts than endure in the dawn the interminable milk trains,

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Earth, you yourself, who float through the office's numbers. What shall I do? Set the landscapes in order? Bring order to loves that will shortly be photographs, that soon will be pieces of wood and mouthfuls of blood? No, no; I denounce, I denounce the conspiracy

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. of these deserted offices which do not radiate pain, which blot out the laws of the forest, and I offer myself to be eaten by those penned-up cattle when their cries fill the valley where the Hudson runs drunk on oil.

New York
Bn dch: Greg Simon v Steven F. White Under themultiplications, a drop of duck's blood, under the divisions, a drop of sailor's blood, under the additions, a river of tender blood. A river that sings and flows past bedrooms un the borroughs and it's silver, cement, or wind in New York's counterfeit dawn. I know the mountains exist. And wisdom's eyeglasses, too. But I didn't come to see the sky. I'm here to see the clouded blood, the blood that sweeps machines over waterfalls and the soul toward the cobra's tongue. Every day in New York, they slaughter four million ducks,

five million hogs, two thousand pigeons to accommodate the tastes of the dying, one million cows, one million lamds, and two million roosters that smash the skies to pieces.

it's better to sob while honing the blade or kill dogs on the delirious hunts than to resist at dawn the endless milk trains, the endless blood trains and the trains of roses, manacled by the dealers in perfume. The ducks and the pigeons, and the hogs and the lambs lay their drops of blood under the multiplications, and the terrified bellowing of the cows wrung dry
606

Th Federico Garcia Lorca fills the valley with sorrow where the Hudson gets drunk on oil. I denounce everyone who ignores the other half, the half that can't br redeemed, who lift their mountains of cement where the hearts beat inside forgotten little animals and where all of us will fall in the last feast of pneumatic drills. I spit in all your faces. The other half hears me, devouring, pissing, flying in their purity, like the supers' children in lobbies who carry fragile twigs to the emptied spaces where the insect antennae are rusting. This is not hell, but the street. Not death, but the fruit stand.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. There is a world of tamed rivers and distances just bryond our grasp in the cat's paw smashed by a car, and I hear the earthworm's song in the hearts of many girls. Rust, fermentation, earth tremor. Your youself are the earth as you drift in office numbers. What shall I do now? Set the landscapes in order? Order the loves that soon become photographs, that soon become pieces of wood and mouthfulls of blood? No, no: I denounce it all. I denounce the conspiracy of these deserted offices that radiate no agony, that erase the forest's plans, and I offer myself as food for the cows wrung dry when their bellowing fills the valley where the Hudson gets drunk on oil.

607

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Divn Del Tamarit

Trng k Tamarit
608

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

1945. Minh ha
Divn Del Tamarit

609

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

610

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

611

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

612

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tp th Divn del tamarit gm c hai phn: Gacela v Casida. Gacela l mt th th mang nhiu nhc tnh trong truyn thng thi ca ca khi Rp v cc vng ph cn. Xut hin t th k th 6. C ngun gc t th th Casida. Cu trc tng ta nh loi th tr tnh ngn ca (sonnet), gm c 14 cu. Tinh thn ca loi th ny l din t nhng su kh ca phn ly, t bit hoc nhng thng au tuyt vng ca tnh yu. V sau khi th th ny trn xung n tr thnh mt th th thng dng trong gii thi ca Hi gio. Casida l mt loi th c truyn c trc Gacela, thng thng ln n nm mi cu, i khi di c trm cu.Rt ch trng n vn iu. Divn del tamarit, Trng k Tamarit, l tp th cui cng ca Federico Garcia Lorca trc khi ng b t hnh. Gm c 12 bi Gacela v 9 bi Casida. S dng hai th th truyn thng v ph thng vi nh din t v tnh yu v s cht. Qua giai on xng xo trong Siu Thc, ng quay v vi trm t, nhng vn v ca tnh i, nhng m u ca mt mt, nhng su thm ca s cht. Tp th ny cha y hi th, ni bun, tang tc v tng tranh ca th gii siu hnh. D nhin, ng khng tun th hon ton nhng lut l c truyn, ng s dng nhng u im ca hai th th v ha nhp vi nhng k thut khc nh th Trung Hoa v th ty phng ng thi. Tuy nhin vi mt th th hin din lu i, t n cu mang mt khng kh, mt nh kin m ngi c s b nh hng ci hng v c chp nhn. V d nh th th Lc Bc, cho d thi s c i thay cch no, lm mi cch no th Lc Bc cng s c nhn din v tinh anh ca Lc Bc cng s xm nhp vo tm hn. Do cn bn ny m th ca Lorca trong Gacela v Casida mang n mt sc thi khc: S din t ca v thc trong l lun thi ca c truyn. Theo nh ti liu hin c, Lorca vn lun lun s dng hai th th ny ngay t lc bt u lm th v chn mi vi ti nng khi hon nhp vo Siu Thc.. Khoan vi kt lun rng ng tr v ngun sau khi kinh qua nhng dn bc tin phong. Mi ngi u c mt bn gc. T bn gc ny, con ngi vn chng i ra, bc ti. Thu thp, hc hi, kinh nghim. Vn hc cng cao cng rng cng cho tm t v tr tu ca con ngi hiu bit thm trm v cm nhn su xa. Nhng chnh vn ha cao mi lm con ngi nhn thc c thm m. T , con ngi mi thm thu rng, trong khi thm m th v hn v nh nhng thm m ca mi ngi u c gii hn. Ci thm m cao nht ca mt ngi l ci thm m nhn t bn gc ring t ca ngi . V ci bn gc ny l mt phn ca bn gc dn tc. Trn gc nhn ny, thi s Lorca ha nhp thi ca v bn gc ca ng.

613

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela:Mi Tnh Bt Ng
Khng ai hiu c mi hng t bng em thm Mc Lan huyn hoc. Khng ai bit c ni kh tm em ngm tnh yu nh chim ht mt . Ngn con nga Ba T thip ng trn trn em nh trng sng qung trng, sut bn m m p lng eo m p chng hn bng tuyt lnh. (1) Gia thch cao v hoa Li, lic mt cnh kt ht xanh xao. Tm trong tim ti dng tng em nhng mu t ng, vit rng "mi mi", Mi mi, mi mi, khu vn su au thn th em trn la xa mi mi, huyt mch em chy trn mi ti, cn mi em mt m a ti vo ci cht.

GHI: (1) enemiga de la nieve, K th ca tuyt.

614

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela del Amor Imprevisto

Nadie comprenda el perfume de la oscura magnolia de tu vientre. Nadie saba que martirizabas un colibr de amor entre los dientes. Mil caballitos persas se dorman en la plaza con luna de tu frente, mientras que yo enlazaba cuatro noches tu cintura, enemiga de la nieve. Entre yeso y jazmines, tu mirada era un plido ramo de simientes. Yo busqu, para darte, por mi pecho las letras de marfil que dicen siempre, siempre, siempre: jardn de mi agona, tu cuerpo fugitivo para siempre, la sangre de tus venas en mi boca, tu boca ya sin luz para mi muerte.

615

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. No-one knew the way you tortured a hummingbird of love between your teeth. A thousand Persian ponies fell asleep in the moonlit plaza of your brow, while for four nights I hugged your waist, the enemy of snow. Between gypsum and jasmine, your glance was a pale branch of seeds. I searched in my heart to give you letters in ivory that say 'always', 'Always', 'always': garden of my agony, your body forever fleeing from me, blood from your veins in my mouth, your mouth already dark for my death.

Gacela of Unforseen Love

Bn dch: W.S.Mervin No one understood the perfume of the dark magnolia of your womb. Nobody knew that you tormented a hummingbird of love between your teeth. A thousand Persian little horses fell asleep in the plaza with moon of your forehead, while through four nights I embraced your waist, enemy of the snow. Between plaster and jasmine, your glance was a pale branch of seeds. I sought in my heart to give you the ivory letters that say "always", "siempre", "siempre" : garden of my agony, your body elusive always, that blood of your veins in my mouth, your mouth already lightless for my death.

Gacela of Unforseen Love

Bd: Gilbert Wesley Purdy No one understood the perfume of the dark magnolia of your belly. No one knew you martyred a hummingbird of love between those teeth. A thousand Persian carousels slept in the moon plaza of your forehead, while four nights I lashed myself to your waist, enemy of snow.
616

Gacela: Unforeseen Love

Bn dch: Paul Archer No-one perceived the perfume from your belly's hidden magnolia.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Among the plaster and jasmine, you saw I was a pallid branch of seeds. I sought through my breast to give you letters of ivory saying always, always, always: garden of my last breath, your body escaped forever, the blood of your veins in my mouth, your mouth already without light for my death

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. love's hummingbird between your teeth. A thousand Persian ponies fell asleep in the moonlit plaza of your brow, while four nights through I bound your waist, the enemy of snow. Between plaster and jasmine your glance, pale branch of seed. I search my breast to give you the ivory letters saying: Ever. Ever, ever, my agony's garden, your exclusive form forever: blood of your veins in my mouth, your mouth now lightless for my death.

Ghazal of Love Unforeseen

Bd: Catherine Brown No one understood the perfume, ever: the dark magnolia of your belly. N one ever knew you martyred

617

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: S Hin Din Kinh S

Ti mun nc chy khng cn dng sng Ti mun gi thi khng cn thung lng. Ti mun m ti khng cn nhn thy v tim ti khng cn hoa bc vng. (1) Cho n b chuyn tr cng cy l v con giun hy hoi gia ti tm. Cho u lu nhe rng ci lp long v n bm vng ph ngp dy t. Ti thy c mun phin m thng tch (2) ang u tranh qun qui vi bui tra. Ti chu ng hong hn xanh mu r c (3) thi gian kh au ng trn nhng vm h Nhng ng thp sng thn em la th nh xng rng en phi gia c lau. Hy nht ti khc khoi trong hnh tinh u ti nhng ng khoe khu gi chic eo thon.(4)
618

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

GHI: (1) La flor del oro, hoa bng vng hoc m vng. (2)Puedo ver el duelo, ti nhn thy s au bun (tang tc). Duelo c ngha Cc bn dch dng ch duel v struggle. (3) Un ocaso de verde veneno, mt hong hn ca cht c xanh. (Catherine Brown: a sunset green with poison, mt hong hn xanh vi cht c ), (A.S.Kline: the green venom of twilight, cht c xanh lc chng vng),(Paul Archer: the sunset's green poison, cht c xanh ca hong hn.) Xanh, phi chng l mu r (g) st, t bn thn n l mt loi c dc? (4) cintura fresca, chic eo ca ngi n b lng l. Cc bn dch u dng ngha cool waist, calm waist hoc fresh waist.

619

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela de La Terrible Presencia

Yo quiero que el agua se quede sin cauce. Yo quiero que el viento se quede sin valles. Quiero que la noche se quede sin ojos y mi corazn sin la flor del oro. Que los bueyes hablen con las grandes hojas y que la lombriz se muera de sombra. Que brillen los dientes de la calavera y los amarillos inunden la seda. Puedo ver el duelo de la noche herida luchando enroscada con el medioda. Resisto un ocaso de verde veneno y los arcos rotos donde sufre el tiempo. Pero no me ensees tu limpio desnudo como un negro cactus abierto en los juncos. Djame en un ansia de oscuros planetas, pero no me ensees tu cintura fresca!

620

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. I want water to be free of channels, I want the wind to be free of valleys. I want the night to be without eyes and my heart without a golden flower; for the oxen to talk to the giant leaves and the earthworm to die of darkness; for the skull's teeth to gleam and yellows flood through silk. I can see the duel of wounded night wrestling embroiled with mid-day. I can endure the sunset's green poison and the broken arches where time suffers. But dont reveal your clean nakedness like a black cactus out in the rushes. Leave me longing for the dark planets, but dont show me your cool waist

Gacela Of The Terrible Presence

Bd: A.S. Kline I want the river to lose its way. I want the wind to quit the valley. I want the night to lose its sight, and my heart its flower of gold; the cattle to speak to the great leaves, and the worm to die of shadows; the teeth on the skull to shine, and the silk to be drowned in yellows. I can see wounded midnights duel struggling, knotted, with noon light. I resist the broken arch, where time suffers, and the green venom of twilight. But do not make a black cactus, open in reeds, of your nakedness. Leave me afraid of dark planets, but do not show me your calm waist.

Gacela: The Terrible Presence

Bd: Gilbert Wesley Purdy

Gacela: The Terrible Presence

Bd: Paul Archer

I wish the water to be without channel. I wish the wind to be without valleys.

621

Th Federico Garcia Lorca I wish the night might be without eyes and my heart without the golden flower; that the oxen might speak with great leaves and the earthworm die of shadow; that the teeth of skulls might gleam and yellows inundate the silk. I can see the duel of the wounded night battling coiled with the noon. I resist a sunset of green poison and those broken arches where time suffers. But do not illumine your clean nakedness like a black cactus exposed in the rushes. Leave me in a longing for dark planets, but do not show me your fresh waist.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

I want there to be no channel for the water. I want there to be no valleys for the wind. I want there to be no eyes for the night, no flower of gold for my heart; and I want the oxen to talk to the big leaves, and the earthworm to die of the shadow; and I want teeth in the skull to gleam, and the yellows to wash over the silk. I can see the struggle of wounded night wrestling in coils with midday. I can endure a sunset green with poison and the broken arches where time suffers. But do not show me your immaculate nude like a black cactus open in the reeds. Leave me in longing for shadowy planets, but do not show me the cool of your waist.

Ghazal of The Terrible Presence

Bd: Catherine Brown

622

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: Mi Tnh Tuyt Vng

m cha n nn em cha n nh sao ti b i. Ri ti s i, d b cp la lin hoan trn vng trn Ri em s n chic li rt phng v mui trong ma. Ngy cha n nn em cha n nh sao ti b i. Ri ti s i tng cho n cc cnh hoa Cm Chng Ri em s n qua ng bn cng rnh ti tm. Khi m v ngy u khng n ti c th cht v em v em hy cht v ti.

623

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela del Amor Desesperado

La noche no quiere venir para que t no vengas, ni yo pueda ir. Pero yo ir, aunque un sol de alacranes me coma la sien. Pero t vendrs con la lengua quemada por la lluvia de sal. El da no quiere venir para que t no vengas, ni yo pueda ir. Pero yo ir entregando a los sapos mi mordido clavel. Pero t vendrs por las turbias cloacas de la oscuridad. Ni la noche ni el da quieren venir para que por ti muera y t mueras por m.

624

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela of Desperate Love

Bd: W.S. Merwin. The night does not wish to come so that you cannot come and I cannot go. But I will go, though a scorpion sun should eat my temple. But you will come with your tongue burned by the salt rain. The day does not wish to come so that you cannot come and I cannot go. But I will go yielding to the toads my chewed carnation. But you will come through the muddy sewers of darkness. Neither night nor day wishes to come so that I may die for you and you die for me.

Gacela: Desperate Love

Bd: Paul Archer Night doesnt want to fall so you dont come, and I cannot go. But I will go even if the sun's scorpions feast on my forehead. But you will come with a tounge burnt by the rain of salt. Day doesnt want to break so you dont come and I cannot go. But I will go offering to toads my bitten carnation. But you will come through the murky sewers of darkness. Neither night nor day want to come so I die for you and you die for me.

625

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: Tnh Yu Khng Cn Bit

Khi va nghe ting chung t Vela anh i ln em vng min hoa Verbena Granada nh vng trng chm nh sng vo l Ivy. Khi va nghe ting chung t Vela anh lc xi khu vn Cartagena. Granada nh con hu hng gia nhng cnh qut gi Khi va nghe ting chung t Vela trong thn xc em anh bc chy d cha bit em l ai.

626

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela del Amor Que No Se Deja Ver

Solamente por or la campana de la Vela te puse una corona de verbena. Granada era una luna ahogada entre yedras. Solamente por or la campana de la Vela desgarr mi jardn de Cartagena. Granada era una corza rosa por las veletas. Solamente por or la campana de la Vela me abrasaba en tu cuerpo sin saber de quin era.

627

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: Love That Hides From View

Bd: Paul Archer Just so as to hear the bell of the Vela I crowned you with verbena. Granada was a moon drowned in the ivy. Just so as to hear the bell of the Vela I ripped up my garden in Cartagena. Granada was a doe pink among the weather vanes. Just so as to hear the bell of the Vela I burned in your body without knowing whose it was.

628

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: a Tr Qua i
Mi bui chiu Granada mi bui chiu mi a tr qua i Mi bui chiu nc ngi xung chuyn tr cng b bn. Thn cht mang cnh bay ru phong. Gi mt m v gi trong lnh l i g Li bay qua ngn thp, khi ngy l a tr b thng. Khng du vt vui a no trong gi (1) khi ti gp em ni hm ru vang. Khng mt vn my no trn t khi em cht ui trong dng sng. Nc l xung t ni cao di thung lng ch v hoa chy trn. Thn xc em, trong bng tay ti tm, nm ven b nh thin s lnh bng.

(1) Aire: Khng gian, khng trung, gi, xut hin,

629

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela del Nino Muerto

Todas las tardes en Granada, todas las tardes se muere un nio. Todas las tardes el agua se sienta a conversar con sus amigos. Los muertos llevan alas de musgo. El viento nublado y el viento limpio son dos faisanes que vuelan por las torres y el da es un muchacho herido. No quedaba en el aire ni una brisna de alondra cuando yo te encontr por las grutas del vino. No quedaba en la tierra ni una miga de nube cuando te ahogabas por el ro. Un gigante de agua cay sobre los montes y el valle fue rodando con perros y con lirios. Tu cuerpo, con la sombra violeta de mis manos, Era, muerto en orilla, un arcngel de frio

630

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: The Dead Child

Bd: Paul Archer Every evening in Granada, every evening a child dies. Every evening the water sits down and converses with friends. The dead wear wings of moss. The cloudy wind and the clear wind are two pheasants flying over the towers and the day is a wounded boy. You didnt leave a larks speck in the air when I found you by the wine grottos. You didnt leave a clouds crumb on the ground when you were drowning in the river. A giant of water fell onto the mountains and the valley rolled by with lilies and dogs. Your body, in the violet shade of my hands, lay dead on the bank like an archangel of cold.

Every afternoon the water sits down to converse with its friends. The dead put on wings of moss. The cloudy wind and the clear wind are two pheasants that fly through towers and the day is a wounded young boy. You did not leave behind a speck of lark in the air when I found you by the wine grottos. Nor did you leave a crumb of cloud on the earth when you drowned in the river. A giant of water fell upon the mountains and the valley was rolling with dogs and lilies. Your body, with the violet shadow of my hands, was an archangel of cold, dead upon the bank.

Gacela of The Dead Child

Bd: do Bishop a ln mng http://spanishpoems.blogspot.com/2005/07/ federico-garca-lorca-gacela-del-nio.html Each afternoon in Granada, each afternoon, a child dies. Each afternoon the water sits down and chats with its companions. The dead wear mossy wings. The cloudy wind and the clear wind are two pheasants in flight through the towers,
631

Gacela of The Dead Boy

Bd: Gilbert Wesley Purdy Every afternoon in Granada, every afternoon a child dies.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca and the day is a wounded boy. Not a flicker of lark was left in the air when I met you in the caverns of wine. Not the crumb of a cloud was left in the ground when you were drowned in the river. A giant of water fell down over the hills, and the valley was tumbling with lilies and dogs. In my hands' violet shadow, your body, dead on the bank, was an angel of coldness.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Every afternoon the water sits down to talk things over with its friends. The dead wear wings of moss. The wind cloudy and the wind clean are two pheasants that circle the towers and the day is a wounded boy. No blade of lark remained in the air when I found you there in the wine caves. No crumb of cloud remained on the land when you were drowning in the river. A giant of water fell down the mountains and the valley rolled by with irises and dogs. Your body, shadowed violet by my hands, dead on the bank, was an archangel of cold.

Ghazal of The Dead Child

Bd: Catherine Brown Every afternoon in Granada a child dies, every afternoon.

632

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: Ci Ngun Cay ng

Mt ci ngun cay ng mt th gii c hng ngn sn thng. Khng bn tay b nh no ph v cng vo nc. Ngi nh i u? u? v u? Tri cao c hng vn ca s - Mt trn chin n ong hung hng v ci ngun cay ng. Cay ng. Vt au di bn chn, v au trn khun mt, v au trong quan ti trong mt m mi n Hy yu, k th ca ta hy cn vo ci ngun cay ng!

633

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela De La Raiz Amarga

Hay una raz amarga y un mundo de mil terrazas. Ni la mano ms pequea quiebra la puerta del agua. Dnde vas, adnde, dnde? Hay un cielo de mil ventanas -batalla de abejas lvidasy hay una raz amarga. Amarga. Duele en la planta del pie el interior de la cara, y duele en el tronco fresco de noche recin cortada. Amor, enemigo mo, muerde tu raz amarga!

634

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: The Bitter Root

Bd: Paul Archer Theres a bitter root and a vast world of terraces. Not even the tiniest of hands breaks open the water's gate. Where are you going, where, where? The sky has a thousand windows - a battle of furious bees and theres a bitter-tasting root. Bitter. It stings under the foot and inside the face, and chafes the cool trunk of freshly cut night. Love, my enemy, bite your bitter-tasting root!

Not even the smallest hand shatters the gate of waters. Where are you going, where, where? Theres a sky of a thousand windows a battle of bruised bees and theres a bitter root. Bitter. Sore on the sole of the foot, on the inside of the face, and sore in the cool trunk of the freshly cut night. Love, my enemy, bite on your bitter root!

Gacela of the Bitter Root

Bd: Eswin Honic There is a bitter root and the world has a thousand terraces. Nor can the smallest hand shatter the door of water. Where are you going, where, oh where? The sky has a thousand windows - battle of livid bees 635

Gacela of The Bitter Root

Bd: A.S. Kline Theres a bitter root and a world of a thousand terraces.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca and there is a biier root. Bitter. The ache in the sole of the foot is the ache inside the face, and it aches in the fresh trunk of night only just lopped off. Love, my enemy, bite your bitter root!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Not even the tiniest hand breaks down the door of the waters. Where are you going, where? There is a sky of one thousand windows - a battle of livid bees and there is a bitter root. Bitter. It hurts in the sole of the foot, on the inside of the face, and it hurts in the cool trunk of the new-cut night. Love, my enemy, bite your bitter root!

Ghazal of The Bitter Root

Bd: Catherine Brown There is a bitter root and a world of thousand terraces.

636

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: Ci Cht Ti Tm
Ti xin ng gic chim bao tri to trnh tht xa no ng bi tha ma. Ti xin ng gic chim bao con tr m moi tim mnh th vo i dng. Ti khng mun nghe xc cht khng mu,(1) ci ming thi ra kht nc cn van xin. Ti khng mun bit s dy v ca c v trng li lim nh ming rn bn rn vt v n hng ng. Ti mun ng mt khonh khc, mt lc, mt pht, mt trm nm, Ch cn ngi ta bit ti cha cht, bit c vng tht trn i mi ti l bn tr ca gi ty l chic bng mnh mng ca nc mt Hy ph khn ln mt ti lc bnh minh v mt tri s nm xung mt nm kin la hy tm nc tt ln giy ti tht t cho nng b cp nhe cng trn trt qua. Ti xin ng gic chim bao tri to hc bi iu ca ty sch t trn thn Ti xin sng vi a b m ph m moi tim mnh th vo i dng. (1) Xem cu dch ca Robert Bly.
637

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela de La Muerte Oscura

Quiero dormir el sueo de las manzanas alejarme del tumulto de los cementerios. Quiero dormir el sueo de aquel nio que quera cortarse el corazn en alta mar. No quiero que me repitan que los muertos no pierden la sangre; que la boca podrida sigue pidiendo agua. No quiero enterarme de los martirios que da la hierba, ni de la luna con boca de serpiente que trabaja antes del amanecer. Quiero dormir un rato, un rato, un minuto, un siglo; pero que todos sepan que no he muerto; que haya un establo de oro en mis labios; que soy un pequeo amigo del viento Oeste; que soy la sombra inmensa de mis lgrimas. Cbreme por la aurora con un velo, porque me arrojar puados de hormigas, y moja con agua dura mis zapatos para que resbale la pinza de su alacrn. Porque quiero dormir el sueo de las manzanas para aprender un llanto que me limpie de tierra; porque quiero vivir con aquel nio oscuro que quera cortarse el corazn en alta mar.

638

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. because I long to live with that dark child who wanted to cut out his heart on the high seas.

Gacela: Dark Death

Bd: Paul Archer I long to sleep the sleep of apples far from the commotion of cemeteries. I long to sleep the sleep of the child who wanted to cut out his heart on the high seas. I dont want to hear that the dead have no blood to shed, and the rotten mouth goes on crying out for water. I dont want to know about the sacrifices that make the grass grow, or about the moon, its snake-like mouth busily at work before dawn. Id like to sleep for a while, a while, a minute, a century, but in such a way that everyone knows Im not dead, that there's a stable of gold inside my lips, that Im the playmate of the West Wind and the enormous shadow of my tears. Cover me with a veil against the dawn that flings at me fistfuls of ants, and moisten with hard water my shoes so its scorpions claws slide off. Because I long to sleep the sleep of apples to learn a lament that cleanses me of the earth;

Gacela of The Dark Death

Bd: Robert Bly I want to sleep the sleep of the apples, I want to get far away from the busyness of the cemeteries. I want to sleep the sleep of that child who longed to cut his heart open far out at sea. I don't want them to tell me again how the corpse keeps all its blood, how the decaying mouth goes on begging for water. I'd rather not hear about the torture sessions the grass arranges for nor about how the moon does all its work before dawn with its snakelike nose. I want to sleep for half a second, a second, a minute, a century, but I want everyone to know that I am still alive, that I have a golden manger inside my lips, that I am the little friend of the west wind, that I am the elephantine shadow of my own tears. When it's dawn just throw some sort of cloth over me because I know dawn will toss fistfuls of ants at me,
639

Th Federico Garcia Lorca and pour a little hard water over my shoes so that the scorpion claws of the dawn will slip off. Because I want to sleep the sleep of the apples, and learn a mournful song that will clean all earth away from me, because I want to live with that shadowy child who longed to cut his heart open far out at sea.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. since shell hurl at me fistfuls of ants; and wet my shoes with harsh water, so her scorpions sting will slide by. For I want to sleep the sleep of apples learn a lament that will cleanse me of earth; for I want to live with that hidden child who longed to cut out his heart at sea.

Gacela of Dark Death

Bd: A.S. Kline I want to sleep the sleep of apples, far from the tumult of cemeteries. I want to sleep the sleep of that child who longed to cut out his heart at sea. I dont wish to hear that the dead lose no blood; that the shattered mouth still begs for water. dont wish to know of torments granted by grass, nor of the moon with the serpents mouth that goes to work before dawn. I want to sleep for a while, a while, a minute, a century; as long as all know I am not dead; that in my lips is a golden manger; that Im the slight friend of the West Wind; that Im the immense shadow of tears. Cover me, at dawn, with a veil

Ghazal of Dark Death

Bd: Catherine Brown I want to sleep the sleep of apples, far away from the uproar of cemeteries. I want to sleep the sleep of that child who wanted to cut his heart out on the sea. I don't want to hear that the dead lose no blood, that the decomposed mouth is still begging for water. I don't want to find out about grass-given martyrdoms, or the snake-mouthed moon that works before dawn. I want to sleep just a moment, a moment, a minute, a century. But let it be known that I have not died; that there is a stable of gold in my lips, that I am the West Wind's little friend, that I am the enormous shadow of my tears.
640

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Wrap me at dawn in a veil, for she will hurl fistfuls of ants; sprinkle my shoes with hard water so her scorpion's sting will slide off.

Because I want to sleep the sleep of apples and learn a lament that will cleanse me of earth; because I want to live with that dark child who wanted to cut his heart out on the sea.

641

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: Mi Tnh Tuyt Diu (*)

Gia nhng bi nhi trn mt t ti t, gia lau sy tnh yu, hoa Li n t t . Gia la nng phng nam trn bu tri m m theo tin v tuyt n lnh tim ta. Tri v t ha hp trn tay anh. t v tri nh ngi anh thng tch.

(*) Nguyn bn v bn dch duy nht ca Paul Archer c nhiu t khc nhau.

642

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela del Amor Maravilloso

Con todo el yeso de los malos campos, eras junco de amor, jazmn mojado. Con sur y llama de los malos cielos, eras rumor de nieve por mi pecho. Cielos y campos anudaban cadenas en mis manos Campos y cielos azotaban las llagas de mi cuerpo.

Bd: Paul Archer Among all the gypsum in the bad lands, you were a reed of love, wet jasmine. In the south, in the blaze of the bad skies, you were the rumour of snow in my breast. Skies and fields linked chains in my hands, Fields and skies lashed the wounds of my flesh

Gacela: Marvellous Love

643

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: Mi Tnh Hi Tng

ng mang k c theo em cho k c m m tim anh, run run o trng l xanh lnh v thng kh lng cnh thng Ging. Cch chia sng cht hai min ngn anh l vch mun phin chim bao. Hoa Chung dng tng su au cho tim v cm thch cao v tnh. Sut m vn qu rp rnh m m i mt nh tnh ch canh. Sut m ngm c vo anh nh n qu Mc cng nh h hao. i khi gi thi, v sao Ut Kim Hng li l su hi kinh, Mt cnh Ut Kim Hng xinh n au bui sm rng mnh ma ng. Chim bao s hi tnh khng cch chia ci cht vch lng t sinh. C xanh lng l v tnh mc bun thung lng u minh m phn. Vm cao h hn mt ln
644

Th Federico Garcia Lorca gi cy cao mc che dn bng en ng mang k c theo em cho k c m m tim anh.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

645

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela del Recuerdo del Amor

No te lleves tu recuerdo. Djalo solo en mi pecho, temblor de blanco cerezo en el martirio de enero. Me separa de los muertos un muro de malos sueos. Doy pena de lirio fresco para un corazn de yeso. Toda la noche en el huerto mis ojos, como dos perros. Toda la noche, corriendo los membrillos de veneno. Algunas veces el viento es un tulipn de miedo, es un tulipn enfermo, la madrugada de invierno. Un muro de malos sueos me separa de los muertos. La niebla cubre en silencio el valle gris de tu cuerpo.

Por el arco del encuentro la cicuta est creciendo. Pero deja tu recuerdo djalo solo en mi pecho.

Gacela: The Memory Of Love

Bd: Paul Archer Don't take your memory with you. Let it stay here in my heart, a shivering white cherry tree in the torment of January. I'm divided from the dead by a wall of bad dreams. I give the pain of fresh lillies to a heart made of plaster. All night in the orchard my eyes are like two dogs. All night I am eating poisonous quinces. Sometimes the wind is a tulip of fear;

646

Th Federico Garcia Lorca a sickly tulip on a winter morning. A wall of bad dreams divides me from the dead. The grass quietly covers your body's grey valley.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Round the arch where we met hemlock grows. But don't take your memory with you, let it stay here in my heart.

647

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: Li Thot
Nhiu ln lc lng trong i dng trn tai mang y nhng hoa ti, li nm kh au v tnh i. Ti vn thng lc trong i dng, nh lc trong tri tim a tr. Khng c ai c th hn m khng cm gic n ci ca ngi khng c mt Khng ai c th m tr s sinh m qun u lu bt ng ca con nga. V hoa hng tm mc trn ngi trn mnh t kh y xng cng v bn tay loi ngi khng hn g ging nh r cy di lng t. Ti lc li trong tri tim a tr nh lc nhiu ln trong i dng. Khng s nc, ti vn hoi tm kim ci cht ho quang hy dit ti.

648

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela De La Huida
Me he perdido muchas veces por el mar con el odo lleno de flores recin cortadas. Con la lengua llena de amor y de agona muchas veces me he perdido por el mar, como me pierdo en el corazn de algunos nios. No hay nadie que al dar un beso no sienta la sonrisa de la gente sin rostro, ni nadie que al tocar un recin nacido olvide las inmviles calaveras de caballo. Porque las rosas buscan en la frente un duro paisaje de hueso y las manos del hombre no tienen ms sentido que imitar a las races bajo tierra. Como me pierdo en el corazn de algunos nios, me he perdido muchas veces por el mar. Ignorante del agua, voy buscando una muerte de luz que me consuma.

649

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. with a tongue full of love and agony. Many times I've been lost at sea, just as I get lost in the hearts of children. There is no-one who can give a kiss without feeling the smile of those without faces, there is no-one who can touch a newborn without forgetting the motionless skulls of horses. Because roses search the forehead for the harsh landscape of bone, and human hands have no more sense than to be like roots under the ground. Just as I get lost in the hearts of children, Ive been lost many times at sea. Not knowing the water, I go on seeking a shining death to devour me.

Ghazal of The Flight

Bd: Catherine Brown I have often been lost on the sea with my ear full of fresh-cut flowers, with my tongue full of agony and love. Often I have been lost on the sea, as I am lost in the heart of certain children. There is no one who can kiss without feeling the smile of those without faces; there is no one who can touch an infant and forget the immobile skulls of horses. Because roses search the forehead for a hard landscape of bone, and human hands have no more sense than to mimic roots beneath the soil. As I am lost in the heart of certain children, I have often been lost on the sea. Not knowing water, I keep looking to be consumed in luminous death.

Gacela of the Flight

Bd: Stephen Spender and J.L. Gili In have lost myself in the sea many times which my ear full of freshly cut flowers, with my tongue full of love and agony. I have lost myself in the sea many times as I lose myself in the heart of certain children. There is no one who in giving a kiss does not feel the smile of faceless people, and no one who in touching a newborn child forgets the motionless skulls of horses.
650

Gacela: The Escape

Bd: Paul Archer I've been lost many times at sea with an ear full of freshly cut flowers,

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Because the roses search in the forehead for a hard landscape of bone and the hands of man have no other purpose than to imitate the roots below the earth.

As I lose myself in the heart of certain children, I have lost myself in the sea many times. Ignorant of the water I go seeking a death full of light to consume me.

651

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: Mi Tnh Trm Nm

Bn chng p trai trn ng i ln, ... ... ... ... Ba chng p trai trn ng i xung, ... ... ... ... Hai chng m eo, ... ... Mt chng quay li xem mt chng ka! ... Ngoi nhng cy Bng Lng (*) chng c ai i.

(*) Hoc cy ma.

652

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela del Amor de Cien Anos

Suben por la calle los cuatro galanes. Ay, ay, ay, ay. Por la calle abajo van los tres galanes. Ay, ay, ay. Se cien el talle esos dos galanes. Ay, ay. Cmo vuelve el rostro un galn y el aire! Ay. Por los arrayanes se pasea nadie.

Gacela: Hundred Years of Love

Bd: Paul Archer Coming up the street are four beautiful men, hey, hey, hey, hey Coming down the street are three beautiful men, hey, hey, hey Arms round their waists two young men, hey, hey How he turns, one young man, and his look! Hey Beside the myrtles nobody walks.

653

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: Ch Bui Sng

Di cng vm Elvira (1) Ti mun nhn em i qua bit tn em ri khc. Sao mt trng bun lc 9 gi lm nh mu trn g m? Ai gom gp ht mm ri t chy trong tuyt? Chic gai xng rng no git cht hn pha l? Di cng vm Elvira Ti sp thy em i qua ung cn mt em ri khc i, ting ku no hnh h ti em ct ln gia ch! Cm Chng no quyn r gia nhng bao la m! Khi gn nhau sao li xa qu ri xa nhau li thy qu gn! Di cng vm Elvira cho ti thy em i qua su kh theo dng chn ri khc. (1) Arch of Elvira l mt cng ln Granada, Ty Ban Nha, 1896.
654

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela Del Mercado Matutino

Por el arco de Elvira quiero verte pasar para saber tu nombre y ponerme a llorar. Qu luna gris de las nueve te desangr la mejilla? Quin recoge tu semilla de llamarada en la nieve? Qu alfiler de cactus breve asesina tu cristal? Por el arco de Elvira voy a verte pasar para beber tus ojos y ponerme a llorar. Qu voz para mi castigo levantas por el mercado! Qu clavel enajenado en los montones de trigo! Qu lejos estoy contigo! qu cerca cuando te vas! Por el arco de Elvira voy a verte pasar para sufrir tus muslos y ponerme a llorar.

655

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela: The Morning Market

Bd: Paul Archer Under the Arch of Elvira I want to see you pass by, to know your name and make myself cry. What grey nine oclock moon bled your cheeks dry? Who picks up your spurt of hot seed in the snow? What short cactus thorn kills your crystal glass? Under the Arch of Elvira Im going to see you pass by, to drink in your eyes and make myself cry. Oh, what a raised voice castigates me in the marketplace! Oh, how a carnation is tossed aside into piles of wheat! Oh, how distant when Im with you, how close when you go! Under the Arch of Elvira Im going to see you pass by, to touch your thighs and make myself cry.

Gacela of The Morning Market

Bd: Michael Smith. Under the Elvira arch let me see you pass that I may learn your name and cry. What pale moon at nine bled your cheek white? Who gathers up the seed that sets its snow aflame? What tiny cactus spike shatters your glass? Under the Elvira arch let me see you pass that I may lap your eyes and cry. How it chastens me, the market-call you raise! What odd carnation, you, amid the piles of wheat! How far you are when close! How near to me when gone! Under the Elvira arch let me see you pass that I may suffer your thighs and cry

656

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Gacela of The Morning Market

Bd: Stephen Spender v J.L. Gili Though the arch of Elvira I want to see you pass, to know your name and begin weeping. What grey moon at nine drew the blood from your cheek? Who gathers your seed of sudden blazing in the snow? What brief cactus needle murders your crystal?

Though the arch of Elvira I 'm going to see you pass, to drink your eyes and begin weeping. What voice to chastise me you raise through the market! What enraptured carnation among the heaps of corn! How far away I am near you how near when you go away! Though the arch of Elvira I'm going to see you pass, to feel your thighs and begin weeping.

657

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida: a B B Thng V Nc
Ti mun i xung thm ging nc ri leo ln bc tng Granada, nhn tri tim b m thng bi ngn nc d k. a b b thng rn r di ho quang sng m. H nc, b nc, vi nc cha kim nc vo khng trung. Tnh thng no gin d, li m no thng tch, Th thm no en ti, ci cht no ngy th! Ri sa mc nh sng lm sao chn vi ct bnh minh! a b n c, thnh ph ng trong cun c. Nc phun ra t gic m ngn cn rong ru trn ngp. a b i din vi nim thng kh nh hai ma ma quyn vo nhau. a b nm ln trn t gp mnh m ni su au. Ti mun nhy xung ging nc t t v ni cht mc nghn chn nght con tim bng rong ru tm a b b thng v nc.

658

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida Del Herido Por El Agua

Quiero bajar al pozo quiero subir los muros de Granada para mirar el corazn pasado por el punzn oscuro de las aguas. El nio herido gema con una corona de escarcha. Estanques, aljibes y fuentes levantaban al aire sus espadas. Ay qu furia de amor! qu hiriente filo! qu nocturno rumor! qu muerte blanca!, qu desiertos de luz iban hundiendo los arenales de la madrugada! El nio estaba solo con la ciudad dormida en la garganta. Un surtidor que viene de los sueos lo defiende del hambre de las algas. El nio y su agona, frente a frente eran dos verdes lluvias enlazadas. El nio se tenda por la tierra y su agona se curvaba. Quiero bajar al pozo quiero morir mi muerte a bocanadas quiero llenar mi corazn de musgo para ver al herido por el agua.

659

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida of The Boy Wounded By The Water

Bd: Edwin Honic I want to go down to the well, I want to go up the walls of Granada, to watch the heart pierced through by the dark thrust of water. The wounded boy was moaning under his crown of rime. Pools, cisterns, fountains raised their swords to the wind. What a fury of love, what a wounding edge, such nocturnal murmurs, such a white death! Such deserts of light were crumbling the sands of dawn! The boy was alone, the city asleep in his throat. A water spout out of his dreams wards off the hungry algae. The boy and his agony, face to face, were two green rains enlaced. The boy stretched out on the ground, and his agony bent over. I want to go down to the well, I want to die my own death, by mouthfuls, I want to stuff my heart with moss, to watch the boy wounded by the water

Casida: The Child Wounded by Water

Bd: Paul Archer I want to go down to the well, I want to climb onto Granada's walls to gaze at the heart impaled on water's hidden spike. The wounded child was groaning under a crown of frost. Pools, cisterns and fountains were lifting swords into the air. Oh, what rage of love, what slashing blades, what dark murmuring, what white death! And the deserts of light, how they buried the sands of dawn! The child was alone with the city asleep in his throat. Water spouting out of dreams saves him from the ravenous algae. The child and his agony, face to face, enlaced like two green rains. The child lay on the ground curled up in his agony. I want to go down to the well, I want to die gulping down my death, I want to fill my heart with moss to see the child wounded by water.

660

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. What deserts of light went destroying the sand-dunes of dawn! The child was alone With the sleeping town in his throat. A fountain that rises from dream guarded him from thirsts of seaweed. The child and his agony face to face, Were two green entangled showers. The child stretched on the ground his agony bent on itself. I want to descend the well, I want to die my death by mouthfuls, I want to fill my heart with moss, To see the one wounded by water.

Casida of One Wounded by Water

Bd: A.S. Kline I want to descend the well, I want to climb the walls of Granada, To gaze at the heart graved By the dark stylus of waters. The wounded child moaned With a crown of frost. Ponds, cisterns and fountains Raised their swords in the air. Ay what fury of love, what a wounding edge, what nocturnal murmurs, what white deaths!

661

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida: Ting Khc

Ti ng ca ban cng Khng mun nghe ting khc. Sau bc tng xm kia ch nghe ting thn thc. Ch c vi thin thn ht ca. ch vi con ch sa. Ngn v cm vang trong bn tay ti. Nhng ting khc l con ch k l, ting khc l thin thn tuyt vi, ting khc l v cm k diu nc mt lm ting gi lng cm ch cn nghe thn thc.

662

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida del Llanto

He cerrado mi balcn por que no quiero or el llanto pero por detrs de los grises muros no se oye otra cosa que el llanto. Hay muy pocos ngeles que canten, hay muy pocos perros que ladren, mis violines caben en la palma de mi mano. Pero el llanto es un perro inmenso, el llanto es un ngel inmenso, el llanto es un violn inmenso, las lgrimas amordazan al viento, no se oye otra cosa que el llanto.

663

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida of The Weeping

Bd: Catherine Brown I have closed off my balcony, for I do not want to hear the weeping. But out there, beyond gray walls. nothing is heard but the weeping. There are very few angels who sing. There are very few dogs who bark. A thousand violins fit in the palm of my hand. But the weeping is an enormous dog, the weeping is an enormous angel, the weeping is an enormous violin, tears have muzzled the wind, and nothing is heard but the weeping.

There are so few angels that sing, so few hounds that howl, so many violins can fit into the palm of my hand. But the weeping is a huge hound, the weeping is a huge angel, the weeping is a huge violin, tears have muzzled the wind and all that can be heard is the weeping

Casida of Weeping
Bd: Frank Mutter I have shut my balcony because I do not want to hear the weeping but behind the grey walls nothing is heard except weeping. There are very few angels singing, there are very few dogs barking, a thousand violins fit in the palm of my hand. But weeping is an immense dog, weeping is an immense angel, weeping is an immense violin, the tears gag the wind, and nothing is heard except weeping

Casida: The Weeping

Bd: Paul Archer I've closed off my balcony as I don't wish to hear the weeping, but out beyond these grey walls all that can be heard is the weeping. .

664

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida: Cnh Cy
Qua khu rng Tamarit Con ch dn ng i ch cnh cy gy xung ch cnh cy mc nt t nhin. C cy to Tamarit mc nhiu tri th than. Chim Sn Ca ko n ht Chim tr ui chng vo bi m. Nhng cnh cy phn khi ging nh chng ta. Khng ngh n ma ln ra ng, tht nhanh nh chnh mnh l cy. Ngi xung nc ngp n u gi hai thung lng i ch ma thu. Tri chng vng khi voi bc vi dm ln cnh v nhng khc cy. Qua khu rng Tamarit m tr con che mt ch cnh ti gy xung ch cnh ti mc nt t nhin.

665

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida de los Ramos

Por las arboledas del Tamarit han venido los perros de plomo a esperar que se caigan los ramos, a esperar que se quiebren ellos solos. El Tamarit tiene un manzano con una manzana de sollozos. Un ruiseor apaga los suspiros y un faisn los ahuyenta por el polvo. Pero los ramos son alegres, pero los ramos son como nosotros. No piensan en la lluvia y se han dormido, como si fueran rboles, de pronto. Sentados con el agua en las rodillas dos valles aguardaban al Otoo. La penumbra con paso de elefante empujaba las ramas y los troncos. Por las arboledas del Tamarit hay muchos nios de velado rostro a esperar que se caigan mis ramos, a esperar que se quiebren ellos solos.

666

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida of The Branches

Bd: Catherine Brown Through the groves at Tamarit the leaden dogs have come, to wait for the branches to fall, for the branches to break by themselves. At Tamarit there's an apple tree with an apple of sobs. A nightingale gathers up sighs, a pheasant drives them off through the dust. Vut the branches are happy the branches are like us. They don't think of rain, and they've dropped off to sleep, as if they were trees, just like that. Sitting with their knees in water two valleys awaited the fall. The half-light with elephant step was leaning on trunks and on branches. Through the groves at Tamarit are many children with faces veiled to wait for my branches to fall, for my branches to break by themselves.

Casida: The Branches

Bd: Paul Archer Into the orchards at Tamarit the leaden dogs have come waiting for the branches to fall, waiting for them to break off by themselves. At Tamarit there's an apple-tree with weeping apples. A nightingale rounds up the sighs and a pheasant sweeps them away through the dust. But the branches are cheerful, the branches are like us. Not thinking of the rain and going to sleep at once as if they were trees. Sitting with water up to their knees two valleys wait for autumn. Twilight with elephant steps tramples its way through branches and trunks. In the orchards at Tamarit there are many children with veiled faces waiting for the branches to fall, waiting for them to break off by themselves.

667

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida of The Branches

Bd: A.S.Kline Through the trees of Tamarit have come the hounds of lead waiting for the branches to fall, waiting till they shatter themselves. Tamarit has an apple tree with an apple on it that sobs. A nightingale gathers the sighs and a pheasant leads them off through the dust. But the branches are happiness, the branches are like us. They dont think of rain, they sleep, as if they were trees, just like that. Sitting, their knees in water, two valleys awaited the Fall. The twilight with elephantine step leant against trunks and branches. Through the trees of Tamarit are many children with veiled faces waiting for my branches to fall, waiting till they shatter themselves.

Casida of The Cluster

Bd: Michael Smith Through the groves of the Tamarit the dogs of lead have come waiting for the clusters to fall, waiting for them to break on their own. The Tamarit has an apple-tree with an apple of sobs. A nightingale gathers sighs that a pheasant chases through the dust. But the clusters are happy, the clusters are like us. They are not thinking of rain and have gone to sleep, suddenly, as if they were trees. Sitting with the water up to their knees, two valleys were waiting for autumn. Dusk with elephantine tread was pushing the branches and tree-trunks. Through the groves of the Tamarit there are many children with veiled face waiting for my clusters to fall, waiting for them to break on their own.

668

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida of The Branches

Bd: Simon Andrewes Through the groves of the Tamarit the dogs of lead have come to wait for the branches to fall to see if they'll break off by themselves. The Tamarit has an apple tree with an apple of sobs. A nightingale gathers the sighs together, and a pheasant chases them through the dust.

But the branches are cheerful, the branches are like us. Not thinking of the rain, they have gone to sleep, as if they had become trees suddenly. Sitting with the water up to their knees two valleys are waiting for autumn. The gloom with elephant's tread pushes at the branches and the trunks. Through the groves of the Tamarit there are many children with their faces veiled waiting for my branches to fall, waiting for them to break off by themselves.

669

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida: Ngi n B Nm
Nhn em trn trung nh v ci t. Ci mt m cha c v nga qua Cha c lau sy, cn nguyn tinh th gn mai sau: vng gii hn kim ngn. Nhn em trn trung l hiu thm khao kht ca cn ma tm yu iu lng eo, hay cn st ca i dng mun mt khng tm u nh sng trn m mi. Mu s vang di qua ch ng s n bng li kim sng la nhng em cha bit ni no l tim cc hay cnh hoa tim tm n mnh. Eo bng em ri ren gc r cn i mi l v hn bnh minh. Di ging nm hoa hng m p ngi cht than van ch i phin mnh.

670

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida de La Mujer Tendida

Verte desnuda es recordar la Tierra, la tierra lisa, limpia de caballos. La tierra sin un junco, forma pura, cerrada al porvenir; confn de plata. Verte desnuda es comprender el ansia de la lluvia que busca dbil talle, o la fiebre del mar de inmenso rostro sin encontrar la luz de su mejilla. La sangre sonar por las alcobas y vendr con espadas fulgurantes, pero t no sabrs donde se ocultan el corazn de sapo o la violeta. Tu vientre es una lucha de races, tus labios son un alba sin contorno. Bajo las rosas tibias de la cama los muertos gimen esperando turno.

671

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida of The Reclining Woman

Bd: W.S. Merwin To see you naked is to remember the earth. The smooth earth, swept clean of horses. The earth without reed, the pure form closed to the future: confine of silver. To see you naked is to comprehend the desire of the rain which seeks the feeble form, or the fever of the sea when its immense face cannot find the light of its cheek. The blood will resound through the bedrooms and arrive with flashing sword, but you will not know where the heart of the toad or the violet hide. Your belly is a battle of roots, your lips are a blurred dawn. Under the tepid roses of the bed the dead moan, waiting their turn.

shut off from the future: a zone of silver. Viewing your nakedness is to understand the longing of the rain as it seeks out soft shapes, or the fever on the ocean's enormous brow and not the glow in its cheeks. Blood will resound through bedchambers and come with flashing swords, but where the toad's heart or the violet hide themselves will be unknown to you. Your womb is a struggle of roots, your lips a dawn without demarcation. Beneath the warm roses of the bed dead men groan as they await their turn.

Casida of The Recumbent Woman

Bd: A.S. Kline To see you naked is to know the Earth. The Earth glistening, empty of horses. The Earth, reed-less, pure in form, closed to futures, horizon of silver. To see you naked is to see the concern of rain searching for a fragile waist, or the feverish seas immense face, not finding its own brightness.

Casida: The Reclining Woman

Bd: Paul Archer Viewing your nakedness is to remember the Earth, the smooth Earth, unmarked by horses. The Earth without a single reed, a pure form

672

Th Federico Garcia Lorca Blood will cry in the alcoves, enter with swords on fire, but you will not know the cache, of the toads heart or the violet.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Your belly is a knot of roots, your lips a dawn with no outline. Under the beds cool roses, the dead moan, waiting their turn.

673

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida: Bn Tay o Tng

Anh khng c g ngoi mt bn tay nu c th, xin bn tay thng tch. Anh khng c g ngoi mt bn tay d phi ng ngn m khng chn chiu. l a hoa Kn nht nht hay chim b cu buc vo tim anh hay k canh xc chn nh trng vo soi m anh tt th. Anh khng c g ngoi bn tay y mi ngy xoa du v tri khn lim ni su. Anh khng c g ngoi bn tay y nng anh bay v trn cnh t sinh. Tt c cn li ri s chm dt Thn thng v danh. Ngi sao bt dit. Tt c cn li l: gi mang bun b mang l ri vo cn lc bay xa.

674

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida de La Mano Imposible

Yo no quiero ms que una mano, una mano herida, si es posible. Yo no quiero ms que una mano, aunque pase mil noches sin lecho. Sera un plido lirio de cal, sera una paloma amarrada a mi corazn, sera el guardin que en la noche de mi trnsito prohibiera en absoluto la entrada a la luna. Yo no quiero ms que esa mano para los diarios aceites y la sbana blanca de mi agona. Yo no quiero ms que esa mano para tener un ala de mi muerte. Lo dems todo pasa. Rubor sin nombre ya, astro perpetuo. Lo dems es lo otro; viento triste, mientras las hojas huyen en bandadas.

675

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Qasida of The Impossible Hand

Bd: Catherine Brown I want nothing else, only a hand, a wounded hand, if possible. I want nothing else, only a hand, though I spend a thousand nights without a bed. It would be a pale lily of lime, a dove tethered fast to my heart. It would be the guard who, on the night of my death, would block entrance absolutely to the moon. I want nothing else, only that hand, for the daily unctions and my agony's white sheet. I want nothing else, only that hand, to carry a wing of my own death. Everything else all passes away. Now blush without name. Perpetual star. Everything else is something else: sad wind, while the leaves flee, whirling in flocks.

I want no more than a hand, even if I spend a thousand nights with no bed. It would be a pale lily of lime, a dove it would be, chained to my heart, the guard it would be, who on my last night would deny the moon entrance wholly. I want no more than that hand for daily unction, the white sheet of my dying. I want no more than that hand to bear a wing of my death. All the rest passes. Blush now without a name. Perpetual star. The rest is the other; sad breeze, While the hosts of leaves flee.

Casida: The Imposible Hand

Bd: Paul Archer I want for nothing more than a hand, a wounded hand, if possible. I want for nothing more than a hand even if I spend many nights without a bed. It would be a pale whitewashed lily, a dove tethered to my heart, a guard who, on the night I pass away, blocks the way to the moon.
676

Casida of The Impossible Hand

Bd: A.S. Kline I want no more than a hand, A wounded hand, if possible.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca I want for nothing more than that hand for daily unctions and the white sheet of my agony. I want for nothing more than that hand to carry a wing at my death.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Apart from that, all comes to an end. A nameless glow. An everlasting star. What remains is something else; a sad wind, with flocks of leaves flying away.

677

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida: Hoa Hng

Hoa hng khng tm kim bnh minh: hu nh bt dit trn cnh l, tm iu g khc hn. Hoa hng khng tm tr tu hoc u m: bin gii gia thc v mng tm iu g khc hn. Hoa hng khng tm kim hoa hng. Nhn tri xanh, bt ng, tm iu g khc hn

678

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida de La Rosa
La rosa no buscaba la aurora: casi eterna en su ramo, buscaba otra cosa. La rosa, no buscaba ni ciencia ni sombra: confn de carne y sueo, buscaba otra cosa. La rosa, no buscaba la rosa. Inmvil por el cielo buscaba otra cosa.

679

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Quasida of The Rose

Bd: Catherine Brown The rose was not looking for the dawn: almost eternal on its stem, it looked for something else. The rose was not looking for science or shadow: confine of flesh and dream it looked for something else. The rose was not looking for the rose. Through the sky, immobile, it looked for something else.

Casida: The Rose

Bd: Paul Archer The rose was not intent on the dawn: almost eternal on its stem, it was intent on something else. The rose was not after knowledge or shadows: the confines of flesh and dreams, it was after something else. The rose was not intent on the rose. Unmoving, against the sky, it was intent on something else

680

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida: Thiu N Ha Vng

Thiu n kim hon tm nc ha vng. Rong ru ln cy cnh bng hnh chen bng m nhn cht chim Sn Ca ht ngi ca da trng ngn. m quang ng xung my xm lem luc bay xa xa dy ni trc gi hiu hiu u m. Thiu n tm t trng l l trong nc nc ta rc ho quang. Bnh minh tinh khit n vi ngn mt d k (1) bt ng v tang lim vi vng hoa gi bng. Thiu n ri l tm gia ngn la thiu chim Sn Ca bt khc chy i cnh chim. Thiu n kim hon vn l chim bch hc nc ho nng nn vng
681

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

GHI: (1) Caras de vaca, cow face: Mt loi bnh lm i mt nm xa nhau, nhn lch lc.

682

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida de La Muchacha Dorada

La muchacha dorada se baaba en el agua y el agua se doraba. Las algas y las ramas en sombra la asombraban, y el ruiseor cantaba por la muchacha blanca. Vino la noche clara, turbia de plata mala, con peladas montaas bajo la brisa parda. La muchacha mojada era blanca en el agua y el agua, llamarada. Vino el alba sin mancha, con cien caras de vaca, yerta y amortajada con heladas guirnaldas. La muchacha de lgrimas se baaba entre llamas y el ruiseor lloraba con las alas quemadas. La muchacha dorada era una blanca garza y el agua la doraba.

683

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. was a white heron and the water gilded her.

Casida of The Golden Girl

Bd: W.S. Mervin. The golden girl bathed in the water and the water turned golden. The algae and the branches in the shadow shadowed her, and the nightingale sang for the white girl. The clear night came muddied with evil silver with bare mountains under the tawny breeze. The wet girl was white in the water, and the water ablaze. The unblemished dawn came with its thousand cow faces, stiff and shrouded with frozen garlands. The girl of tears bathed among flames, and the nightingale wept with charred wings. The golden girl

Casida: The Golden Girl

Bd: Paul Archer. The golden girl bathed in the water and the water was gilded. Waterweed and branches in the shadows startled her, and the nightingale sang to the white girl. The clear night came clouded with dirty silver, with bald-topped mountains beneath a dark grey breeze. The wet girl was white in the water and the water was a firey blaze. Pure white dawn came with a hundred cow faces stiff and shrouded with icy garlands. The girl of tears bathed in the flames
684

Th Federico Garcia Lorca and the nightingale wept with burnt wings. The golden girl was a white heron and the water gilded her.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. clouded dark silver, with barren mountains in the umber breeze. The wet girl was white in the water and the water, blushed. The dawn came without stain, with its thousand bovine faces, stiff and shrouded there with frosty garlands. The girl of tears bathed among tears, and the nightingale wept with burning wings. The golden girl was a white heron and the water turned her gold.

Casida of The Golden Girl

Bd: A.S. Kline The golden girl bathed in the water, and the water turned to gold. The weeds and branches in shadow surprised her, and the nightingale sang for the white girl. And the bright night came,

685

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida: B cu en
Qua tng cy Nguyt Qu thy i b cu en. Mt con l mt tri mt con l mt trng. Ti hi, ny hng xm m phn ti u? Tri ni, m chn sau ui. Trng ni, m chn trong c. Ti ang i eo trn gian quanh tht lng thy i diu hu trng tuyt v thiu n trn trung. Chim ny l chim kia thiu n khng ging chim no. Ti hi, diu hu nh m phn ti u? Tri ni, m chn sau ui. Trng ni, m chn trong c. Qua tng cy Nguyt Qu i b cu trn trung. Chim ny l chim kia c hai u khng phi.

686

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Casida de Las Palomas Oscuras

Por las ramas del laurel vi dos palomas oscuras. La una era el Sol, la otra la Luna. Vecinitas, les dije: Dnde est mi sepultura? En mi cola, dijo el Sol. En mi garganta, dijo la Luna. Y yo que estaba caminando con la tierra por la cintura vi dos guilas de nieve y una muchacha desnuda. La una era la otra y la muchacha era ninguna. Aguilitas, les dije: dnde est mi sepultura? En mi cola , dijo el Sol. En mi garganta, dijo la Luna. Por las ramas del laurel vi dos palomas desnudas. La una era la otra y las dos eran ninguna.

687

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Through the laurel branches I saw two dark doves. One was the sun, the other the moon. Dear neighbours, I called, Where is my tomb? In my tail, said the sun. In my throat, said the moon. And I who was strolling with the land at my hips saw two snow eagles and a naked girl. One was the other and the girl was neither. Dear eagles, I called Where is my tomb? In my tail, said the sun. In my throat, said the moon. Through the laurel branches I saw two naked doves. One was the other and both were neither.

Qasida of The Dark Doves

Bd: Catherine Brown. Through the laurel's branches I saw two dark doves. One was the sun, the other the moon. Little neighbors, I called, where is my tomb? In my tail, said the sun. In my throat, said the moon. And I who was walking with the earth at my waist, saw two snowy eagles and a naked girl. The one was the other and the girl was neither. Little eagles, I called. where is my tomb? In my tail, said the sun. In my throat, said the moon. Through the laurel's branches I saw two naked doves. The one was the other and both of them, neither.

Casida of The Dark Doves

Bd: A.S. Kline. Through the laurel branches I saw two doves of darkness. The one it was the sun, the other one was lunar. I said: Little neighbours where is my tombstone?
688

Casida: The Dark Doves

Bd: Paul Archer.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca In my tail-feathers, the sun said. In my throat, said the lunar. And I who was out walking with the earth wrapped round me, saw two eagles made of white snow, and a girl who was naked. And the one was the other, and the girl, she was neither.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. I said: Little eagles, where is my tombstone? In my tail-feathers, the sun said. In my throat, said the lunar. Through the branches of laurel, I saw two doves, both naked. And the one was the other, and the two of them were neither.

689

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tiu Khc Tnh Yu U Ut

690

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sonnet l mt th th c ngun gc t . c sng lp bi thi s Giacomo da Lentini. Sonnet ngha l tiu khc, bi ht ngn. Vo th k 13, Sonnet thnh hnh vi 14 cu th vi vng iu c th v cu trc ring bit. Thi ho William Shakespeare l mt ngi ni ting sng tc trong th th Sonnet. Tp th Nhng Tiu Khc Tnh Yu U Ut c Federico Garcia sng tc trong giai on 1935 -1936. L kt qu ca cuc tnh Garcia Lorca v Rafael Rodrihuez Rapn. Mi n nm 1983 mi c n hnh v ph bin vo nm 1984. c Nhng Tiu Khc Tnh Yu U Ut trong Php ng: http://elhoteldemisueno.lacoctelera.net/post/2006/02/15/especial-sonetos-del-amor-oscuro-federicogarcia-lorca-

691

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sonnet Vng Hoa Hng

Hi vng hoa!hy nhanh ln! ta ang hp hi! Qun nhanh ln! hy va ca ht va khc than! v bng ti ang nght dn kh qun cn nng thng Ging s tr li nhiu ln. Gia tnh ta cho em v em cho ta, khng gian y tinh t v c cy rung ng Mt bi hoa Phong Qu Tho mc ln nh u un sut nm di than th. Hy vui trn hnh nh mi ca ta ang thng tch m bi sy lau tm dng sui yu kiu ri hp ngm mu trn bp v ta ngt ngo ang chy. Hy ung nhanh ln! c gn k, khn kht bn nhau, mi s sng v yu v hn b ngu nghin, ri thi gian s hy hoi i ta

692

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Soneto de La Guirnalda de Rosas

Esa guirnalda! pronto! que me muero! Teje deprisa! canta! gime! canta! que la sombra me enturbia la garganta y otra vez viene a mi la luz de enero. Entre lo que me quieres y te quiero, aire de estrellas y temblor de planta, espesura de anemonas levanta con oscuro gemir un ano entero. Goza el fresco paisaje de mi herida, quiebra juncos y arroyos delicados. Bebe en muslo de miel sangre vertida. Pero, pronto!, que unidos, enlazados, boca rota de amor y alma mordida, el tiempo nos encuentre destrozados

693

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sonnet of The Wreathe of Roses

Bd: Zachary Jean Chartkoff

That wreathe! Hurry! I am about to die! Weave and twine quicker! Sing and moan and sing! Take joy from the fresh landscape of my wound, For this shadow in my throat moves, clouding break out the reeds, and the delicate streams, the light from an endless January sky. and taste the blood, spilt, on thighs of sweetness. Between my love for you, your love for me, the quake of plants, stars filling the air, a windflower's thicket is constructed, where a year long sigh is moaning obscurely. But quick! So that joined together, and one, time will find us ruined, with bitten souls, and mouths bruised with love.

Between what needs me, and my needing you, starry air, and a trembling tree. A thickness of windflowers lifts a whole year, with hidden groaning.

Love this, my wound's morning landscape, resigned Sonnet of The to break open this wild reed, this river; and from my honeyed thigh, my poured blood's void, Bd: Brian Cole drink. Quick! We, so bound together, entwined as one, bite my soul, break my mouth, lover; time will see that we are wholly destroyed.

Garland of Roses

That garland! Hurry! Grievous is the pain! Weave it quickly! Sing and groan and sing! How this darkness makes my gullet sting and January's light still comes again. For what you want of me and I of you, a gust of stars and trembling greeneries, there grows a thicket of anemones where dark groans block it out the whole year through. Enjoy the cooling landscape of my wound. Break down the reeds and stamp where streams would wind,
694

Sonnet of the Wreath of Roses

Bd: A.S. Kline The wreath, quick, I am dying! Weave it quick now! Sing, and moan, sing! Now the shadow is darkening my throat, and Januarys light returns, a thousand and one times.

Th Federico Garcia Lorca and drink from honeyed thigh the welling blood. But quick, before united, intertwined, with broken mouths and souls chewed up by love we are destroyed by the eternal power of Time.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. shadowed and silvered by a thousand falls. Between your own desire and my desire the space is starry, each step quakes the ground, and forests of anemones will spring to round the year, making their secret sound. Lovers in my wound's landscape, overjoyed, can watch the reeds bend in the crossing currents, can drink from red pools in the honeyed thigh. But hurry, let's entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed.

Sonnet of The Garland of Roses

Bd: Scott Tucker A garland, quick, a wreath: I come and die. Braid flowers as they fade. Sing, cry, and sing! Heart in my throat, a storm swelling a gorge

695

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Sonnet Li Phin Trch D Thng

ng anh mt nhng sung sng tuyt vi t i mt p nh tng v ging ni ni c n tro ra trong hi th em chm vo m anh mi m. Trn bi bin anh bt u kinh s thy lo u v cy tri l cnh khng hoa khng n khng t st cho con trn tht vng trn trong anh. Nu em l kho tng b mt l thnh gi, l ni au t l anh xin lm ch cho em thnh ch nhn. ng anh mt nhng g c im trang khi em l dng sng bng cnh l ma thu anh m mn.

696

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Soneto de La Dulce Queja

Tengo miedo a perder la maravilla de tus ojos de estatua y el acento que de noche me pone en la mejilla la solitaria rosa de tu aliento. Tengo pena de ser en esta orilla tronco sin ramas; y lo que ms siento es no tener la flor, pulpa o arcilla, para el gusano de mi sufrimiento. Si t eres el tesoro oculto mo, si eres mi cruz y mi dolor mojado, si soy el perro de tu seoro, no me dejes perder lo que he ganado y decora las aguas de tu ro con hojas de mi otoo enajenado.

697

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. of having no bloom, or pulp, or clay for the worm of my suffering. If youre my hidden treasure, if youre my cross, and my moist pain, if Im a dog, of yours, my master, never let me lose what I have gained, and decorate the branches of your stream with the leaves of my enraptured autumn.

Sonnet of The Sweet Complaint

Bd: John K. Walsh & Francisco Aragon 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.

Sonnet of The Sweet Complaint

Bd: Brian Cole. Let me not lose the wondrous delight of your eyes - like a statue's - nor the tone that strokes my cheek all through the night with your breath, a solitary rose. Being on this shore is my dismay, a branchless trunk; what worries me is lacking flower, pulp and clay to feed the worm of my own misery. If you are my hidden treasure, if you are my cross, my tearful pain, if I'm the dog and you the master, don't let me lose what I have gained, and deck the branches of your river with leaves of my autumn, estranged.

Sonnet of The Sweet Complaint

Bd: A.S. Kline Dont let me ever lose the wonder of your eyes like a statues, or the stress placed on my cheek at night. by the solitary rose of your breath. Im afraid of being on this shore a branch-less trunk: this deepest feeling

698

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Thng Tch Tnh

Sng la la t thiu anh cnh nhn m m chung quanh nh ngi tng t m nh su i kh au t t ln tri theo thi gian. Mu bun ta thn cung n trn cy Cm iu lng cm gi tnh bin si ng v trong mnh con b cp cn v hnh trong tim. Vng hoa, ngi bnh nm im m trong thao thc em tm n thm vo tan nt gia thm tm. Cho d c trnh l lm tim em c dc thm trm lng su lm m thn tr kh su.

Vt Thng Tnh Yu
nh sng ny, ha hon ny, khung cnh m m ny vy ph anh su au ny m nh t ngh thng kh ny t tri, t t, t thi gian. Nhng mu bun thm ang im trang n Cm iu lng cm, i n kch thch sc nng i dng dn dp trong anh con b cp ny trn vo tim n nu. Nhng vng hoa yu bn ging ngi bnh ni mt ng anh m em n thm gia h hao ca tri tim tan tc. Mc d anh khn ngoan thn trng trong tim em vn thung lng tri di y c dc khin thn tr si m kh ly.

n Cm iu.
699

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Llagas de Amor
Esta luz, este fuego que devora. Este paisaje gris que me rodea. Este dolor por una sola idea. Esta angustia de cielo, mundo y hora. Este llanto de sangre que decora lira sin pulso ya, lbrica tea. Este peso del mar que me golpea. Este alacrn que por mi pecho mora. Son guirnalda de amor, cama de herido, donde sin sueo, sueo tu presencia entre las ruinas de mi pecho hundido. Y aunque busco la cumbre de prudencia me da tu corazn valle tendido con cicuta y pasin de amarga ciencia.

700

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. this anguish of heaven, world and time;

Wounds of love
Bd: A.S. Kline.

this sorrowing blood that adorns the lyre now unplucked, lubricious torch; this weight of the sea that strikes me; this scorpion nesting in my heart; these are a garland of love, a bed for the wounded, where without sleeping I dream you are here among the ruins of my stricken breast. And although I look for total safety, your heart gives me a valley spread out with hemlock and passion for bitter knowledge.

This light, this flame that devours, this grey country that surrounds me, this pain from a sole idea, this anguish of the sky, earth and hour, this lament of blood that now adorns a lyre with no pulse, lubricious torch, this weight of sea that breaks on me, this scorpion that lives inside my breast, are a garland of love, bed of the wounded, where dreamlessly, I dream of your presence among the ruins of my sunken breast. And though I seek the summit of discretion your heart grants me a valley stretched below, with hemlock and bitter wisdoms passion.

Wounds of Love
Bd: Sebastian Dogart This light that consumes, this fire that devours, This land of grey surrounding me with fear, This sorrow fathered by a lone idea, This anguish of sky, world, and dwindling hours, This blood lament which graces, gives art To a pulseless lyre, a lusty firebrand, This heavy ocean pounding me to sand, This scorpion lurking deep within my heart Are all love's wreath, a wounded man's bed, Where without sleep's dreams, I dream your presence Amidst the ruins of my shattered head.
701

Wounds of Love
Bd: Brian Cole This light, this devouring fire; this grey landscape that surrounds me; this grief for an obsessive idea;

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. This light, this devouring fire. This landscape around me, grey forever. This pain on account of a single idea. This anguish of sky, of the world, the hour. This weeping of blood adorning A lyre now stilled, torch of longing. This weight of the sea's endless pounding. This scorpion which makes my heart its dwelling. They are love's wreaths, a sick man's bed, Where I, sleepless, dream of your presence Amongst the ruins of a heart half dead. And though I seek the heights of prudence, You offer me only the valley ahead, And hemlock and longing for bitter experience.

And though I yearn for the peaks of prudence Your heart conjures for me a valley spread With hemlock and passion of harsh science.

Lacerations of Love
Bd: John Edmunds This light, this fire, this quick devouring lime; This grey and empty landscape that surrounds me; This torment of one sole idea that hounds me; This anguish in the heavens, the world and time; These tears of blood that decorate the strings Of my mute lyre, bright torch whose flame should light me; These batterings of a heavy sea that smite me; This scorpion living in my breast that stings; These are love's garland, the wounded victim's bed Where sleepless I dream that with me you remain Among the ruins of the heart you bled. I seek the heights of wisdom, but in vain: Deep in the valley of your heart I'm fed On hemlock, bitter knowledge bought with pain.

Stigmata of Love
Bd: James Flint I'm swallowed by this light, by this fire, By this grey landscape that's my crime, By the endless pain of one idea, By this anguish that's heaven, earth and time, By the drip drip drip of blood's lament Across rhythmless strings, thus kindling a flame, By the maelstrom sea in its torment, By the scorpion that is my heart's game; These my garland of love, on which I lie wounded,
702

Wounds of Love
Bd: Gwynne Edwards

Th Federico Garcia Lorca And where without dreams, I dream of your presence Plumbing the depths that my lone heart has sounded. And though I might crave the summits of prudence In the vale of your passion such thoughts are dumbfounded Laid low by hemlock and a lust that's dark science.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The Wounds of Love

Bd: John Kerr This brilliant light and fire which devour. This grey expanse by which I am surrounded. This sorrow which on one idea is founded. This agony of heaven, world and hour. These tears of blood with which is dressed a lyre silent still, a torch of lust. This sea of which I feel the thrust. This scorpion which in my heart makes its nest. They are love's garland, and the wounded's rest, where, sleepless, I create you in a dream amongst the ruins of my crushed-in breast; and though I seek discretion's height supreme your heart now gives me this vast vale oppressed by passion's bitter skill, where hemlocks teem.

Wounds of Love
Bd: Brendan Kennelly This light, this devouring fire, This grey landscape encaging me. This sorrow born of one idea. This anguished sky, world and hour. This grieving blood, this dandy art, Lyre without a pulse now, lascivious torch. This bull sea goring my flesh. This scorpion thriving in my heart. These are love's garland, bed of a wounded man Where I lie sleepless, dreaming of you In the ruins of my shattered soul. And though I'd climb a peak of wisdom Your heart's valley is a fearsome view Of hemlock, bitter passion encompassing all.

Love's Thorns
Bd: Caridad Svich This light, this fire that devours me, this landscape that surrounds me, this sorrow for one idea, and one idea only, this anguish of sky, world, and extinguishing hours, this cry of blood that adorns
703

Th Federico Garcia Lorca this dying lyre, this restless pyre, this ocean weight that sends me down, this scorpion that ravages my heart, seeking a place to rest, aching garland of love, bed of the wounded, where, sleepless, I dream of your presence among the ruins of a barren heart. And though I look for the height of prudence, your heart only offers a valley tendered with hemlock and the bitter passion of science.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

And though wisdom dictates that aloofness is best, The thought of you drags me down to the dark sea bed With the bittersweet hemlock of love in my breast.

The Wounds of Love

Bd: Merryn Williams This light, this fire that devours. This grey landscape that surrounds me. This obsession that torments me. Anguish of heaven, world and hours. This sobbing of the blood, draped round a broken lyre, a slippery brand. This sea which pounds me with its weight. This scorpion dwelling in my heart.

The Wounds of Love

Bd: Colin Teevan

This light, this unquenchable fire that consumes me, This scalded black and smoking wasteland all round me, This one burning obsession that confounds me, Are all love's garland, and a bed, These limits of earth, sky and time which entomb me, These tears of molten blood which gild and untune me And my lubricious lyre, a useless tool compounding me To this barren shore where wave upon wave pounds me, This scorpion nurtured in my chest which dooms me, These are thorns in the crown of the love which in bed I wear through sleepless nights as I dream that you rest, Amidst the ruins of my heart, your lovely head,

where, without sleep, I try to rally, and dream, amid the ruins, of your presence. And though I seek the height of prudence give me your heart, a spread-out valley of hemlock and desire for bitter fruit.

704

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Thi S Hi Tnh Yu Hi m
Tnh i, sng cht na vi ch ngi huyn hoc i li hi m suy ra hoa ho trong tm: ta khng l ng, nh lm mt ngi. Thi gian bt t, tr lm sao bit bng m ng trnh xa. Trong tim khng thit trng ng chy dng sng mt lnh qua ci tnh. Kh v ngi, x mch kinh b cu v cp chung hnh trn eo gia hoa Hu vi rng beo. Hy hi m vit vo theo in cung hoc ta sng phn th thng linh hn tr n min trng m en.

Thi S Hi Tnh Yu Hi m
Tnh ta i, d sng d cht trong ho huyn, ch ngi vit i li khi ngh li, vi tnh hoa ho a: nu ta khng l ti, nh phi gi t ngi. Thi gian bt t: Tng bt ng c hai u khng bit trn bng en. Trong tim su khng cn thit trng chy xung lnh sng mt vng. Nhng ta cu mang ngi: x toang huyt mch, cp beo v b cu ng tr lng eo mc nght gia rng nanh v hoa Hu. Hy vit y ch vo cn in lon Hoc cho ta sng di tri bnh an, trong m en vnh vin ca linh hn.

705

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

El Poeta Pide A Su Amor Que Le Escriba

Amor de mis entraas, viva muerte, en vano espero tu palabra escrita, y pienso, con la flor que se marchita, que si vivo sin m quiero perderte. El aire es inmortal. La piedra inerte ni conoce la sombra ni la evita. Corazn interior no necesita la miel helada que la luna vierte. Pero yo te sufr. Rasgu mis venas, tigre y paloma, sobre tu cintura en duelo de mordiscos y azucenas. Llena, pues, de palabras mi locura o djame vivir en mi serena noche del alma para siempre oscura.

706

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The Poet Asks His Love To Write

Bd: A.S.Kline. Visceral love, living death, in vain, I wait your written word, and consider, with the flower that withers, I wish to lose you, if I have to live without self. The air is undying: the inert rock neither knows shadow, nor evades it. And the heart, inside, has no use for the honeyed frost the moon pours. But I endured you: ripped open my veins, a tiger, a dove, over your waist, in a duel of teeth and lilies. So fill my madness with speech, or let me live in my calm night of the soul, darkened for ever.

The Poet Asks His Love To Write Him

Bd: John K. Walsh v Francisco Aragon O love of my heart, living death, in vain I wait your written word, and think, with the withered flower: if I must live without myself, I wish to lose you. Air is immortal. The lifeless stone can neither know the shadow nor avoid it. And the inner heart doesn't need the frozen honey flowing from the moon. But I suffered you, tore open my veins, tiger and dove on your waist, caught in a duel of lilies and bites. Fill, then, with words my madness, or let me live in the serene, eternal dark night of the soul.

707

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tnh Yu Ng Trong Tim Thi S

Chng bao gi em hiu tnh anh nh th no v trong anh em ng, ng mi trong su khi than khc anh vn thng du kn lng dy v theo ting thp c au. nh lut sinh ng hnh hi v tinh t m thu tim anh ni mun phin nhng li m nh cn rt i cnh linh hn em vn thn nhin. Mt nhm ngi tm vo tn khu vn ho hc nhn thn th em vi anh au kh, ci n nga sc s c bm xanh. Nhng hy ng, ng mun i, hi ngi yu du. Hy lng nghe mu tuyt vng vang ting v cm! Hy coi chng h ang i ch v rnh rp!

708

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

El Amor Duerme En El Pecho Del Poeta

T nunca entenders lo que te quiero porque duermes en m y ests dormido. Yo te oculto llorando, perseguido por una voz de penetrante acero. Norma que agita igual carne y lucero traspasa ya mi pecho dolorido y las turbias palabras han mordido las alas de tu espritu severo. Grupo de gente salta en los jardines esperando tu cuerpo y mi agona en caballos de luz y verdes crines. Pero sigue durmiendo, vida ma. Oye mi sangre rota en los violines! Mira que nos acechan todava!

709

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

The Beloved Sleeps On The Breast of The Poet

Bd: A.S. Kline. You will never know how much I love you because you sleep and have slept in me. I hide you weeping, pursued by a voice of penetrating steel. A law that disturbs both flesh and star pierces my aching breast now, and clouded words have eaten at the wings of your severe spirit. A knot of people leap in the gardens waiting for your body and my pain on horses of light with emerald manes. But, my beloved, keep on sleeping. Hear my shattered blood in the violins! Beware lest they still lie in wait for us!

because you sleep on me, you are asleep. And I conceal you, haunted, as I weep, pursued by a voice of penetrating steel. The law that shakes both flesh and stars that roll is piercing now my breast so full of grief, and turbid troubled words have sunk their teeth into the wings of your relentless soul. On steeds of light with manes of lucent green. some people leap across the garden gate. They want to see your body and my pain. But keep on sleeping, my life's only mate, and hear my broken blood as violins keen! Look, even now they're lying there in wait!

Love Sleeps In The Poet's Heart

Bd: Rafeal Campo You'll never understand my love for you, because you dream inside me, fast asleep. I hide you, persecuted though you weep, from the penetrating steel voice of truth. Normalcy stirs both flesh and blinding star, and pierces even my despairing heart. Confusing reasoning has eaten out the wings on which your spirit fiercely soared:

His Love Sleeps On The Breast of The Poet

Bd: Brian Cole You will never understand the love I feel,

710

Th Federico Garcia Lorca onlookers who gather on the garden lawn await your body and my bitter grief, their jumping horses made of light, green manes. But go on sleeping now, my life, my dear. Hear my smashed blood rebuke their violins! See how they still must spy on us, so near!

Ngu Yn. Tp 14. Weeping, I conceal you, persecuted by a voice of penetrating steel. A norm that unsettles both flesh and star transfixes my afflicted breast, and turbid words have bitten the wings of your unflinching spirit. A crowd of people leaps in the gardens eager to glimpse your body and my agony, on glowing horses with green manes. But sleep, sleep on forever, my beloved. Hear my broken blood in the violins! Look out, for even now they lie in wait!

His Beloved Sleeps On The Breast of The Poet

Bd: John K. Walsh v Francisco Aragon You cannot ever know how much I love you because you sleep in me, asleep to all.

711

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

m Tnh Yu Mt Ng
m sp xung, i ta vi trng trn khi em ci, anh bt u ri l. em kinh b anh nh Thng li anh than nh b cu thong bay. m qua, i ta, tht su kh em khc v ni thm kn cch xa. Lng au xt ha thnh nim khc khoi tri tim em bng ct bn mong manh. Bnh minh n, i ta trn ging ng. K i mi vo dng mu gi bng ang tung chy dng nh v tn. Nng xuyn qua nhng k h ban cng nh i m nhng no ng hng qui t li trong tim anh tang tc.

712

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Noche de Amor Insomne

Noche arriba los dos con luna llena, yo me puse a llorar y tu reias. Tu desden era un dios, las quejas mias momentos y palomas en cadenas. Noche abajo los dos. Cristal de pena, llorabas tu por hondas lejanias Mi dolor era un grupo de agonas sobre tu debil corazon de arena. La aurora nos unio sobre la cama, las bocas puestas sobre el chorro helado de una sangre sin fin que se derrama. Y el sol entro por el balcon cerrado y el coral de la vida abrio su rama sobre mi corazon amortajado.

713

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Night of Insomniac Love

Bd: A.S. KLine Night approached us, with a full moon. I began to cry, and you to laugh. Your contempt was a god, and my whining a chain of doves and minutes. Night left us. Crystal of pain you wept for distant depths. My sadness was a cluster of agonies, over your fragile heart of sand. Morning joined us on the bed, our mouths placed over the frozen jet of a blood ,without end, that was shed. And the sun shone through the closed balcony, and the coral of life opened its branch, over my shrouded heart.

Night of Sleepless Love

Bd: John K. Walsh v Francisco Aragon We two, the night ahead, the full moon looming: I began to weep while you laughed. Your scorn became a god, and my complaints were little doves and moments in a chain. We two, the night behind, crystal of pain, and you wept over deep and distant things. My sorrow was a clump of agony resting on your fragile heart of sand. The dawn drew, us together on the bed. Our mouths were waiting near the frozen spout of blood that spilled forth in an endless flow. The sun came through the shuttered balcony and the coral of life opened its branch, and settled here upon my shrouded heart.

714

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

Tm Lc Tiu S Federico Garcia Lorca

S dng ti liu: Wikipedia Online.
715

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

1. Federico Garcia Lorca sinh ngy 5 thng 6 nm 1898 ti Fuente Vaqueros, mt th trn nh cch thnh ph Granada chng vi dm, thuc Ty Ban Nha. Ba ca ng l mt a ch, c t ai quanh vng Granada. M ca ng l mt ti nng dng cm, dy v trnh din. 1990, gia nh ng di vo thnh ph Granada. 1915, ng vo i hc Sacred Heart. Cc b mn theo hc l vn chng, lut php, sng tc v dng cm. 1918, ng cho in cun sch u tay: Impresiones y Paisajes. 1919, theo hc chng trnh Residencia de estudiantes ti Madrid. ng quen bit vi nhng ngh s tn tui nh Manuel de Falla, Luis Bunuel v Savador Dal. V kch u tay ca ng ra i nm 1920, El maleficio de la mariposa. Ngh thut kch ngh v sn khu eo ui ng cho n cui i, mc d ng ni ting v thi ca. 1920, tp th u Libro de Poemas (Tuyn Tp Th) xut bn. Tip theo l tp th Poema del Cante Jondo (Th T Ca Khc Thm Trm). K tip l tp Suites (T Khc Th) v Canciones (Ca Khc Th). 1925 - 1928, ng v ha s siu thc Salvador Dal tr thnh bn rt thn. T tin n tnh ng tnh. Nhng khi ng xut bn tp th Tnh Ca Du Mc th Dal ch trch loi th tr v ngun ny. Khin cho tnh cm gia hai bn st m. Nhng phi i cho n khi ng v Dal cng mt ngi bn Luis Bunuel dng cun phim Un Chien Andalou, 1929, th tnh cm gia ng v Dal kt thc. Sau , Dal ly v, c Gala. Chuyn ny gy cho Lorca nhng ni bun kh v tht vng.

716

Th Federico Garcia Lorca

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

1928, mt tp th quan trng ca ng xut bn, Romancero Gitano (Tnh Ca Du Mc). Tp th ny a ng ln hng u thi s ca Ty Ban Nha trong thi im . V bi th c yu chung nht trong tp th l bi Tnh Ca Mng Du ( Romance Sonambulo ). 1927, v kch th hai, Mariana Pinneda trnh din trn sn khu v do ha s Dal dn dng ti Barcelona. 1930, v kch The Shoemaker's Prodigious Wife trnh din, mc d ng vit t nm 1926. 1930, ng i sang New York. nh theo hc Columbia University. ng sng tc tp th quan trng Poeta en Nueva York trong thi im ny. V kch El Pblico cng sng tc ti y nhng mi n 1970 mi n hnh. Trong thi gian 1926-1936, ng vit nhng v kch, As que pasen cinco anos, 1931, Khi Nm Nm Qua..., Bodas de sangre, 1932, m Ci m Mu, Yerma, 1934 v tp th cui cng ca ng Divn del Tamarit, 1931-1936, Trng K Tamarit. ng sng ti Huerta de San Vicente vi ngy trc khi ng b t hnh trong thng tm nm 1936. Ngoi ra ng cn sng tc nhng bi ht iu Tang nhng t c ch . 2. V li Ty ban Nha t New York, nhm vo lc ch c ti ca Primo de Rivera sp . V Cng Ho Ty Ban Nha thnh lp. Nm 1931, ng tng lm gim c ca sn khu i hc Teatro Universitario la Barraca. c s ti tr ca b gio dc ca tn chnh ph. on ngh s ca sn khu ny phi i trnh din nhiu ni. C mc tiu gii thiu nhng ngh thut mi. Thi gian ny, ng vit nhng v kch ni ting nh Bodas de Sangre, (m Ci m Mu), La cas de Bernarda Alba, (Cn Nh ca Bernarda Alba). Quan nim v kch ngh sn khu ca Lorca cng l mt quan im tm hiu. Cng nh th, y l nhng loi kch c bn cht Siu Thc v Lorca sng tc vi tinh thn sn khu b ti.
717

Th Federico Garcia Lorca 3.

Ngu Yn. Tp 14.

ng ri b Madrid i Granada ba ngy trc khi Cuc Ni Chin Ty Ban Nha bt u., thng by nm 1936. ng b bt gi bi mt nhm qun phit bo th ti Andalusia. Ngy 18 thng tm, ngi anh r ca ng ang lm th trng ca Granada, thuc ng x hi, b bn cht. Lorca b bt ngay trong chiu hm . Theo nh nh vn Ian Gibson trong tc phm The Assassination of Garcia Lorca, thi s Lorca b t hnh cng vi ba ngi khc ti Fuente Grande, hoc l Fountain of Tears ti Arabic, trn con ng gia Viznar v Alfacar. Tuy nhin vn cn rt nhiu nghi vn v ngy cht cng nh ni cht v cht nh th no. Th vn: Impresiones y paisajes (Impressions and Landscapes 1918) Poema del cante jondo (Poem of Deep Song; written 1921 but not published until 1931) Libro de poemas (Book of Poems 1921) Romancero gitano (Gypsy Ballads 1928) Poeta en Nueva York (written 1930 - published posthumously in 1940, first translation into English as The Poet in New York 1940)[36] Llanto por Ignacio Snchez Mejas (Lament for Ignacio Snchez Mejas 1935) Seis poemas gallegos (Six Galician poems 1935) Sonetos del amor oscuro (Sonnets of Dark Love 1936) Lament for the Death of a Bullfighter and Other Poems (1937) Primeras canciones (First Songs 1936) Selected Poems (1941) Bn dch: Poem of the Deep Song - Poema del Canto Jondo, translated by Carlos Bauer (includes original Spanish verses). San Francisco; City Lights Books, 1987 ISBN 0-87286-205-4 Poem of the Deep Song, translated by Ralph Angel. Sarabande Books, 2006 ISBN 1932511-40-7
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El maleficio de la mariposa (The Butterfly's Evil Spell: written 191920, first production 1920) Los tteres de Cachiporra (The Billy-Club Puppets: written 1922-5, first production 1937) Mariana Pineda (written 192325, first production 1927) La zapatera prodigiosa (The Shoemaker's Prodigious Wife: written 192630, first production 1930, revised 1933) Amor de Don Perlimpln con Belisa en su jardn (Love of Don Perlimpln and Belisa in his Garden: written 1928, first production 1933) El pblico (The Public: written 192930, first production 1972) As que pasen cinco aos (When Five Years Pass: written 1931, first production 1945) Retablillo de Don Cristbal (The Puppet Play of Don Cristbal: written 1931, first production 1935) Bodas de sangre (Blood Wedding: written 1932, first production 1933) Yerma (written 1934, first production 1934) Doa Rosita la soltera (Doa Rosita the Spinster': written 1935, first production 1935) Comedia sin ttulo (Play Without a Title: written 1936, first production 1986) La casa de Bernarda Alba (The House of Bernarda Alba: written 1936, first production 1945) Kch ngn: El paseo de Buster Keaton (Buster Keaton goes for a stroll1928) La doncella, el marinero y el estudiante (The Maiden, the Sailor and the Student 1928) Quimera (Dream 1928) Phim: Viaje a la luna (Trip to the Moon 1929) Tranh v: Salvador Dal, 1925 160x140mm. Ink and colored pencil on paper. Private collection, Barcelona, Spain Bust of a Dead Man, 1932. Ink and colored pencil on paper. dimension and location unknown.
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Tc phm pht hnh, In v sch in t:

1- Ho Ra Nt Ch Ln ng Qun Quanh. Th. 1986. 2- Ta Bn Trong. Th. 1987. 3- Hi i. Th. 1991. 4- Hy Cho Ta Sng Gim i Nhau (5) v Tnh. Th i. 1993. 6- Thi S v Ti. Th v ty lun. 2002. 7- Th Tc Bc. Th v ty lun. 2009. 9- Nhp v Nt. Phn 1. Ty Lun. 2012. 10- Chm Ht. Th. 2012. 11- Hay p Tnh C 1, 2, 3. Ghi. 2012. 12- Cui Cng L Th. Th. 2013. 13- Nhp v Nt. Phn 2. Ty Lun. 2013 14- Th Federico Garcia Lorca. Chuyn th. 2013. 15- poems on the run. Th Din. 2013.

Bng Nng Khuya. Nhc. CD 2001. Ht Khng Dm Bun. Nhc. CD 2003. i Ch Khng Bit i Ch Ai. Nhc. CD 2004.
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Tc phm s pht hnh:

- Th T Bit. Tuyn Tp Th Nht Bn. "Japanese Death Poems". Yoel Hoffmann. Ngu Yn. - Tuyn tp Th Phi Chu. Modern African Poetry. Gerald Moore & Ulli Beier. Ngu Yn. - Tuyn Tp Th Th Gii. Chuyn th. Ngu Yn. - Nhp v Nt. Phn 3. Ty Lun. Ngu Yn - Th 2013. Ngu Yn.

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