Another Dream

A swallow goes flying
far away—

Dew blooms
in my dream
And my tired heart spins
like a carousel where Death’s
children ride
I want to tie up time
in these trees

with a rope of black night
And later I will paint
the pale riverbanks of my memories
with my blood
How many children does Death have?
All are in my heart

A swallow comes flying
from far away—

Otro sueño

¡Una golondrina vuela
Hacia muy lejos! . . .

Hay floraciones de rocío
Sobre mi sueño,
Y mi corazón da vueltas,
Lleno de tedio,
Como un tiovivo en que la Muerte
Pasea a sus hijuelos.
¡Quisiera en estos árboles
Atar al tiempo
Con un cable de noche negra,
Y pintar luego
Con mi sangre las riberas
Pálidas de mis recuerdos!
¿Cuántos hijos tiene la Muerte?
¡Todos están en mi pecho!

¡Una golondrina viene
De muy lejos!

Federico García Lorca (1898–1936)

From Poet in Spain

April Poems 2020 #2: Foolish but Necessary Allowances

Tree

It is foolish

to let a young redwood

grow next to a house.

Even in this

one lifetime,

you will have to choose.

That great calm being,

this clutter of soup pots and books—

Already the first branch-tips brush at the window.

Softly, calmly, immensity taps at your life.

Shadow Lines With Begonia

Palabras/Words: Poems in Spanish Translated to English #7

Another Dream

A swallow goes flying far away—

Dew blooms in my dream And my tired heart spins like a carousel where Death’s children ride I want to tie up time in these trees

with a rope of black night And later I will paint the pale riverbanks of my memories with my blood How many children does Death have? All are in my heart

A swallow comes flying from far away—

Otro sueño

¡Una golondrina vuela Hacia muy lejos! . . .

¡Una golondrina viene De muy lejos!

Federico García Lorca (1898–1936)

From Poet in Spain

Hand Shadow Variations

Paradise is Around Us Always: A Poem in 2 Parts

A swallow goes flying
far away—

Dew blooms
in my dream
And my tired heart spins
like a carousel where Death’s
children ride
I want to tie up time
in these trees

with a rope of black night
And later I will paint
the pale riverbanks of my memories
with my blood
How many children does Death have?
All are in my heart

A swallow comes flying
from far away—

¡Una golondrina vuela
Hacia muy lejos! . . .

¡Una golondrina viene
De muy lejos!