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The Selected Poems Quotes
The Selected Poems
by
Federico García Lorca8,877 ratings, 4.32 average rating, 246 reviews
The Selected Poems Quotes
Showing 1-18 of 18
“The night below. We two. Crystal of pain.
You wept over great distances.
My ache was a clutch of agonies
over your sickly heart of sand.”
― Selected Poems
You wept over great distances.
My ache was a clutch of agonies
over your sickly heart of sand.”
― Selected Poems
“Variación / Variations"
El remanso de aire
bajo la rama del eco.
El remanso del agua
bajo fronda de luceros.
El remanso de tu boca
bajo espesura de besos.
*
The still waters of the air
under the bough of the echo.
The still waters of the water
under a frond of stars.
The still waters of your mouth
under a thicket of kisses.”
― The Selected Poems
El remanso de aire
bajo la rama del eco.
El remanso del agua
bajo fronda de luceros.
El remanso de tu boca
bajo espesura de besos.
*
The still waters of the air
under the bough of the echo.
The still waters of the water
under a frond of stars.
The still waters of your mouth
under a thicket of kisses.”
― The Selected Poems
“Gacela of the Flight”
I have lost myself in the sea many tunes
with my ear full of freshly cut flowers,
with my tongue full of love awl 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.
Because the roses search in the forehead
for a hard landscape of hone
and the hands of man hate 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.”
― The Selected Poems
I have lost myself in the sea many tunes
with my ear full of freshly cut flowers,
with my tongue full of love awl 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.
Because the roses search in the forehead
for a hard landscape of hone
and the hands of man hate 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.”
― The Selected Poems
“The dreadful nostalgia for a wasted life,
the fatal feeling that you were born too late,
or the restless hope for an impossible morning
with the nearby restlessness of the flesh's ache”
― The Selected Poems
the fatal feeling that you were born too late,
or the restless hope for an impossible morning
with the nearby restlessness of the flesh's ache”
― The Selected Poems
“In the rain-swept afternoon
my heart discovers
the tragedy of autumn
raining from the trees.”
― The Selected Poems
my heart discovers
the tragedy of autumn
raining from the trees.”
― The Selected Poems
“But hurry! so united, entwined,
mouths broken by love and soul bitten,
time will find us destroyed”
― The Selected Poems
mouths broken by love and soul bitten,
time will find us destroyed”
― The Selected Poems
“Today in my heart
a vague trembling of stars,
but my way is lost
in the soul of the mist.
Light lops my wings.”
― The Selected Poems
a vague trembling of stars,
but my way is lost
in the soul of the mist.
Light lops my wings.”
― The Selected Poems
“I alone with my undiscovered love,
without heart, without tears,
towards the skies’ impossible roof
with a huge sun to console me.”
― The Selected Poems
without heart, without tears,
towards the skies’ impossible roof
with a huge sun to console me.”
― The Selected Poems
“Duerme, vuela, reposa: ¡También se muere el mar!”
― The Selected Poems
― The Selected Poems
“Romance Sonambulo"
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 hoarfrost stars
come with the fish of shadow
that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs its wind
with the sandpaper of its branches,
and the forest, cunning cat,
bristles its brittle fibers.
But who will come? And from where?
She is still on her balcony
green flesh, her hair green,
dreaming in the bitter sea.
—My friend, I want to trade
my horse for her house,
my saddle for her mirror,
my knife for her blanket.
My friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabra.
—If it were possible, my boy,
I’d help you fix that trade.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
—My friend, I want to 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.
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 “Guardias Civiles”
were pounding on the door.
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea.
And the horse on the mountain.”
― The Selected Poems
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 hoarfrost stars
come with the fish of shadow
that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs its wind
with the sandpaper of its branches,
and the forest, cunning cat,
bristles its brittle fibers.
But who will come? And from where?
She is still on her balcony
green flesh, her hair green,
dreaming in the bitter sea.
—My friend, I want to trade
my horse for her house,
my saddle for her mirror,
my knife for her blanket.
My friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabra.
—If it were possible, my boy,
I’d help you fix that trade.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
—My friend, I want to 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.
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 “Guardias Civiles”
were pounding on the door.
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea.
And the horse on the mountain.”
― The Selected Poems
“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
so that he may wear my silence
on his 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.)”
― The Selected Poems
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
so that he may wear my silence
on his 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.)”
― The Selected Poems
“Between my shoulders, my full and golden soul takes wing. The April sky turns my eyes indigo.”
― The Selected Poems
― The Selected Poems
“My silk heart’s
filled with lights,
lost bells,
lilies and bees,
and I’ll go far,
further than these mountains,
further than the seas,
close to the stars
and I’ll say to Christ,
Lord, give me back
the child’s soul I once had”
― The Selected Poems
filled with lights,
lost bells,
lilies and bees,
and I’ll go far,
further than these mountains,
further than the seas,
close to the stars
and I’ll say to Christ,
Lord, give me back
the child’s soul I once had”
― The Selected Poems
“Arbole, Arbole . . ."
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, muchacha.”
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.”
― The Selected Poems
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, muchacha.”
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.”
― The Selected Poems
“La Soleá"
All in this world has broken.
All that’s left is silence.
(Leave me in this field
weeping.)”
― The Selected Poems
All in this world has broken.
All that’s left is silence.
(Leave me in this field
weeping.)”
― The Selected Poems
“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 balloon.
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!”
― The Selected Poems
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 balloon.
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!”
― The Selected Poems
“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.
— Federico García Lorca, from “Gacela De La Huida (Garcela Of The Flight),” The Selected Poems of Federico García Lorca. Trans. Stephen Spender and J. L. Gili. (New Directions; unknown edition May 17, 2005) Originally published December 3rd 1915.”
― The Selected Poems
I have lost myself in the sea many times.
Ignorant of the water I go seeking
a death full of light to consume me.
— Federico García Lorca, from “Gacela De La Huida (Garcela Of The Flight),” The Selected Poems of Federico García Lorca. Trans. Stephen Spender and J. L. Gili. (New Directions; unknown edition May 17, 2005) Originally published December 3rd 1915.”
― The Selected Poems
