Federico García Lorca

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

Federico García Lorca Poems

1. Train Ride 5/29/2015
2. The Old Lizard 3/26/2012
3. Peaceful Waters:Variation 3/29/2010
4. Ode To Walt Whitman 3/29/2010
5. The Guitar-La Guitarra 3/29/2010
6. Ode To Salvador Dali 3/29/2010
7. Saturday Paseo: Adelina 1/3/2003
8. The Song Of The Barren Orange Tree 3/29/2010
9. Sonnet 1/1/2004
10. The Little Mute Boy 1/3/2003
11. Paisaje 1/1/2004
12. Cantos Nuevos 3/29/2010
13. Piccolo Valzer Viennese 1/1/2004
14. Preciosa Y El Aire 1/1/2004
15. Debussy [with English Translation] 3/30/2010
16. Serenata 1/3/2003
17. The Faithless Wife 1/3/2003
18. The Gypsy And The Wind 1/3/2003
19. Nocturnos De La Ventana 1/1/2004
20. Adam 3/29/2010
21. MuriÓ Al Amanecer 1/1/2004
22. Muerte De AntoÑIto El Camborio 1/1/2004
23. Declaring 3/29/2010
24. Balada Amarilla Iv 1/1/2004
25. Romance Sonámbulo 1/1/2004
26. Landscape Of A Vomiting Multitude 1/3/2003
27. Sonnet Of The Sweet Complaint 1/3/2003
28. La Casada Infiel 1/1/2004
29. Adivinanza De La Guitarra 1/1/2004
30. Gacela Of The Dead Child 1/3/2003
31. El Balcón 1/3/2003
32. Dawn 3/29/2010
33. Weeping 1/3/2003
34. Gacela Of Unforseen Love 1/3/2003
35. Las Seis Cuerdas 1/1/2004
36. Arbolé, Arbolé 1/1/2004
37. Little Viennese Waltz 1/3/2003
38. Ditty Of First Desire 1/3/2003
39. Lament For Ignacio Sánchez Mejías 1/3/2003
40. Gacela Of The Dark Death 1/3/2003

Comments about Federico García Lorca

  • Sandra Feldman (5/2/2017 6:10:00 PM)

    When you read,
    Federico Garcia Lorca,
    'Te viene un nectar a la boca, '
    (nectar fills your mouth)
    And you finally realize,
    What poetry's all about.

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Toufik Khyar (11/22/2016 1:03:00 PM)

    i can't find his last poem to mariana before he gets excuted.. can anyone help me?

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (4/21/2016 11:02:00 AM)

    another poem by F.G. Lorca - short but beautiful (original Spanish text + Italian translation)

    ' El silencio ' - Poemas de Federico García Lorca

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

    - In ITALIAN:

    Ascolta figlio il silenzio.
    E' un silenzio ondulato,
    un silenzio
    dove scivolano valli ed echi
    e che piega le fronti
    al suolo

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (11/30/2015 5:18:00 AM)

    ''Pequeno Vals Vienes'' - (''Little Viennese Waltz'')

    En Viena hay diez muchachas,
    un hombro donde solloza la muerte
    y un bosque de palomas disecadas.
    Hay un fragmento de la manana
    en el mueso de la escarcha
    Hay un salon con mil ventanas

    Ay, ay, ay, ay,
    Toma este vals con la boca cerrada

    Este vals, este vals, este vals,
    de si, de muerte y de conac
    que moja su cola en el mar

    Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero,
    con la butaca y el libro muerto,
    por el melancolico pasillo
    en el oscuro desvan del lirio,
    en nuestra cama de la luna
    y en la danza que suena la tortuga.

    Ay, ay, ay, ay,
    Toma este vals con la boca cerrada

    En Viena hay cuatro espejos
    donde juegan tu boca y los ecos,
    Hay una muerte para piano,
    que pinta de azul a los muchachos.
    Hay mendigos por los tejados
    Hay frescas guirnaldas de llanto

    Ay, ay, ay, ay,
    Toma este vals con la boca cerrada

    Porque te quiero, te quiero, amor mio,
    en el desvan donde juegan los ninos,
    sonando viejas luces de Hungria
    por los rumores de la tarde tibia,
    viendo ovejas y lirios de nieve
    por el silencio oscuro de tu frente.

    Ay, ay, ay, ay,
    Toma este vals con la boca cerrada

    En viena bailare contigo
    con un disfraz que tenga
    cabeza de rio.
    Mira que orillas tengo de jacintos
    Dejare mi boca entre tus piernas,
    mi alma en fotografias y azucenas,
    y en las ondas oscuras de tu andar
    quiero, amor mio, amor mio, dejar,
    violin y sepulcro, las cintas del vals.


    Federico Garcia Lorca lived in New-York City in 1929-1930. There he wrote the collection ''Poeta en Nueva-York'', which includes ''Pequeno Vals Vienes'' (''Little Viennese Waltz'')

    This poem was translated by Leonard Cohen as “Take This Waltz” (do you know his song?)

  • Jlynne Thompson (11/3/2013 12:12:00 AM)

    I'm a fan of Lorca as well and new to the site. Is there a way to request a poem be added?

  • Kate Hobbs (5/26/2013 9:08:00 AM)

    Can anyone tell me the name of Federico Lorca's poem which contains the words tell my friends that I am dead.....I am wrapped in that blue ground that is the my... Or something similar.

    Many thanks

  • fleur de lys (7/26/2009 4:27:00 PM)

    For the most unforgettable and exquisite verse by the great Lorca you can't go past 'Sonnet', published here in Spanish as 'Soneto'.

  • Jay Warier (7/19/2009 10:56:00 AM)

    Lorca is one of my favorites.He really can cast a magical spell on us! And the moon comes back again and again in his lines! What a bliss he offers the reader!

  • Will Barber (2/28/2007 3:15:00 AM)

    A real artist - and I wish more of his works were available on this site - with or without translation.

    Garcia Lorca spoke for poetic and human liberty - but opponents of human liberty might have murdered him in any age, including our own.

    I'm serious - Falangism is a state of mind, in which all artists are at risk.

Best Poem of Federico García Lorca

Ballad Of The Moon

translated by Will Kirkland

The moon came into the forge
in her bustle of flowering nard.
The little boy stares at her, stares.
The boy is staring hard.
In the shaken air
the moon moves her amrs,
and shows lubricious and pure,
her breasts of hard tin.
"Moon, moon, moon, run!
If the gypsies come,
they will use your heart
to make white necklaces and rings."
"Let me dance, my little one.
When the gypsies come,
they'll find you on the anvil
with your lively eyes closed tight.
"Moon, moon, moon, run!
I can feelheir horses ...

Read the full of Ballad Of The Moon

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

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