DIVAN DEL TAMARIT

granada la bella

where anything is possible

DIVÁN DEL TAMARIT

CASIDA DE LOS RAMOS

 

Por las arboledas del Tamarit

han venido los perros de plomo

a esperar que se caigan los ramos

a esperar que se quiebren ellos solos.      


El Tamarit tiene un manzano

con una manzana de sollozos.

Un ruiseñor agrupa los suspiros,

y un faisán los ahuyenta por el polvo.


Pero los ramos son alegres,

los ramos son como nosotros.

No piensan en la lluvia y se han dormido,

como si fueran árboles, de pronto.  


Sentados con el agua en las rodillas

dos valles esperaban al otoño.

La penumbra con paso de elefante

empujaba las ramas y los troncos.  


Por las arboledas del Tamarit

hay muchos niños de velado rostro

a esperar que se caigan mis ramos

a esperar que se quiebren ellos solos.

CASIDA DE LA ROSA  


La rosa

no buscaba la aurora:

casi eterna en su ramo,

buscaba otra cosa.      


La rosa

no buscaba ni ciencia ni sombra:

confín de carne y sueño,

buscaba otra cosa.  


La rosa

no buscaba la rosa.

Inmóvil por el cielo,

buscaba otra cosa.

GACELA DEL

AMOR QUE NO SE DEJA VER


Solamente por oír

la campana de la Vela

te puse una corona de verbena.

 

Granada era una luna

ahogada entre las yedras. 


Solamente por oír 

la campana de la Vela

desgarré mi jardín de Cartagena.

 

Granada era una corza

rosa por las veletas.

 

Solamente por oír

la campana de la Vela 

me abrasaba en tu cuerpo

sin saber de quién eres.

GACELA DEL

MERCADO MATUTINO  

 

Por el arco de Elvira

quiero verte pasar,

para saber tu nombre

y ponerme a llorar.


¿Qué luna gris de las nueve

te desangró la mejilla?

¿Quién recoge tu semilla

de llamarada en la nieve?

¿Qué alfiler de cactus breve

asesina tu cristal?  


Por el arco de Elvira

voy a verte pasar,

para beber tus ojos

y ponerme a llorar.  


¡Qué voz para mi castigo

levantas por el mercado!

¡Qué clavel enajenado

en los montones de trigo!

¡Qué lejos estoy contigo,

Qué cerca cuando te vas!  


Por el arco de Elvira

voy a verte pasar,

para sentir tus muslos

y ponerme a llorar.

TRANSLATION.
  Through the groves of the Tamarit 
the dogs of lead have come 
to wait for the branches to fall 
to see if they'll break off by themselves. 


Sitting with the water up to their knees 
two valleys are waiting for autumn. 
The gloom with elephant's tread 
pushes at the branches and the trunks. 


The Tamarit has an apple tree 
with an apple of sobs. 
A nightingale gathers the sighs together, 
and a pheasant chases them through the dust. 


Through the groves of the Tamarit 
there are many children with their faces veiled 
waiting for my branches to fall, 
waiting for them to break off by themselves.


But the branches are cheerful, 
the branches are like us. 
Not thinking of the rain, they have gone to sleep, 
as if they had  become trees suddenly.

This poem appears as CASIDA III in the collection Diván del Tamarit. It was first published in Ciudad nr. 1, 26 December 1934. The translation was done by me. The photograph was taken by René-Charles Hirt when he visited Granada in the spring of 1999. It is the driveway to the Huerta del Tamarit, near the River Genil, a short distance from the Huerta de San Vicente on the edge of the city.

TRANSLATION
The rose 
wasn't looking for the dawn: 
almost eternal on its branch, 
it was looking for something else. 


The rose 
wasn't looking for either science or shadow: 
defined in flesh and dream, 
it was looking for something else.

  

The rose 
wan't looking for the rose. 
motionless against the sky, 
it was looking for something else. 

This poem appears as CASIDA VII in the collection Diván del Tamarit. It was first published in Zaragoza in Noreste, nr. 12, 1935, with a dedication to Angel Lázaro. The translation was done by me. The photo was taken by René-Charles Hirt on a visit to Hungary.

LINKS TO OTHER PAGES ON THIS SITE

FEDERICO GARÍA LORCA: LIFE, TIMES, AND WORKS. CHRONOLOGY

ABOUT LEONARD COHEN, LORCA, AND PEQUEÑO VALS VIENÉS

GRANADA LA BELLA BLOG

GRANADA LA BELLA HOMEPAGE

OTHERWISE YOU CAN USE THE MENU AT THE TOP OF THE PAGE

TRANSLATION.

GAZELLE OF THE LOVE THAT WON'T BE SEEN

Just because I heard 

the Watchtower bell

I crowned you Queen of the fête.


Granada was a moon

drowning in the ivy.

  

Just because I heard 

the Watchtower bell

I laid my garden of Cartagena to waste.


Granada was a roe deer,

rose-coloured among the weather vanes. 


Just because I heard 

the Watchtower bell

I scorched myself on your body

not knowing who you belonged to.

This poem appears as GACELA IV in the  Diván del Tamarit collection. I did the translation and René-Charles Hirt took the photo when he visited Granada in October 2003. It shows the torre de la Vela with its bell tower seen from Plaza Nueva. In less noisy times, the bell could be heard across and beyond the city and was rung to tell the cultivators on the Vega that it was time to change the irrigation sluices.


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TRANSLATION

Through the Arch of Elvira 
I want to watch you go by, 
to ask you your name 
and to break down and cry. 

What grey nine o'clock moon 
has bled your cheek? 
Who is collecting your seed 
that flashes in the snow? 

What short cactus needle 
is murdering your crystal? 


Through the Arch of Elvira 
I'm going to watch you go by, 
to drink in your eyes 
and to break down and cry.


What a voice for my punishment 
you raise in the market! 
What an outlandish carnation 
in the piles of wheat! 
How distant I am with you, 
how close when you leave! 


Through the Arch of Elvira 
I'm going to watch you go by, 
to feel the touch of your thighs 
and to break down and cry.

This poem is GACELA XII, the last gazelle of the Diván del Tamarit ollection . It was first published in Madrid in 1935 in the Almanaque literario, along with other poems of this collection. It was not included in the edition that was being prepared for publication by the University of Granada at the time of Franco's military rebellion. Lorca may have considered it "too anecdotal". (Eduardo Blanco-Amor, who visited Lorca in Granada in the spring of 1934, said he knew who the poem was written for and of the circumstances in which it was created.)

I did the translation and I also took the photograph (1998). The idea for this page comes from Frank Reilly, to whom I dedicate it.