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[juneflame.livejournal.com]

Sonnet Of The Sweet Complaint

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

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

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

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

~Federico Garcia Lorca~
Translated by John K. Walsh and Francisco Aragon

Comments

[arnulf.livejournal.com]

Ah, that was beautiful.

Pity no deciduous tree can hold on to its leaves when the chill fills the air (unless it is already dead and barren, but then what?).
Even by writing this poem he voided the wish expressed in it.

Too bad. Indeed, despairing.

It seemed to me that some consolation might be found in that the poem is an outlet for his despair, but on a closer read what he regrets is that he's unable to feed it. Does that make the fear of his statue-like lover the reason of his branchlessness? Hmmm... Not so sure I get this poem after all...

J.

[booksoul.livejournal.com]

as you can see from my icon, i love fgl. i actually lived on an avenida garcia lorca while i lived in spain. his writing is wonderful.