(5 June 1898 – 19 August 1936 / Fuente Vaqueros)

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Gacela of the Dark Death

I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to withdraw from the tumult of cemetries.
I want to sleep the dream of that child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

I don't want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood,
that the putrid mouth goes on asking for water.
I don't want to learn of the tortures of the grass,
nor of the moon with a serpent's mouth
that labors before dawn.

I want to sleep awhile,
awhile, a minute, a century;
but all must know that I have not died;
that there is a stable of gold in my lips;
that I am the small friend of the West wing;
that I am the intense shadows of my tears.

Cover me at dawn with a veil,
because dawn will throw fistfuls of ants at me,
and wet with hard water my shoes
so that the pincers of the scorpion slide.

For I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to learn a lament that will cleanse me to earth;
for I want to live with that dark child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003


Read poems about / on: sleep, dream, child, water, moon, dark, friend, death, heart, children, lost

Comments about this poem (Gacela of the Dark Death by Federico García Lorca )

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  • Aashish Ameya (1/24/2007 10:34:00 PM)

    Simply superb, portraying the situation in which Lorca was caught and saw brutal cruelty of bourgeois society.

    6 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Jacob R (7/12/2006 4:23:00 PM)

    You My Friend
    Even Thou you are long gone
    You are still something special

    6 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
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