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Somnabulant Ballad
O green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With shadows around her waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, green hair,
with eyes of cold silver.
O green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon
all things are watching her
and she cannot see them.
O green, how I want you green.
Great stars of hoarfrost come
with the fish of shadow
that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs the wind
on the sandpaper of its branches,
and the hill is a wildcat
bristling its spikes.
But who's coming? From where...?
She stays on her balcony,
green flesh, green hair,
dreaming of the bitter sea.
- Brother-in-arms, I want to trade
my horse for your house,
my saddle for your mirror,
my knife for your blanket.
Comrade, I come bleeding
from the passes of Cabra.
- If only I could, my boy,
I'd make that trade with you.
But I’m no longer who I was,
and my house is no longer mine.
- Comrade, I long to die
decently in bed.
One of steel, if that’s possible,
with the finest linen sheets.
Don't you see I’m wounded
from my chest to my throat?
- Your white shirt has
hundreds of dark brown roses.
Your blood stinks as it oozes
out from around your belt.
But I’m no longer who I was,
and my house is no longer mine.
- Allow me, at least, to go up
to the high balconies,
Let me go up! Let me
go up to the green balconies!
The balustrades of the moon
where the water roars by.
The two comrades
climb to the high balconies.
Leaving a trail of bloodstains.
Leaving a trail of teardrops.
Tin lanterns were trembling
on the rooftops,
countless crystal tambourines
pierced the light of dawn.
O green, how I want you green,
green wind, green branches.
The two comrades climbed.
The stiff wind left a strange
taste in their mouths
of bile, mint and basil.
- Comrade! Where is she? Tell me,
where is your broken-hearted girl?
- How often she waited for you!
How often she was waiting for you,
cold-faced and black-haired,
on this green balcony!
Over the top of the water tank
the gypsy girl was swinging,
green flesh, green hair,
with eyes of cold silver.
An icicle of the moon
holds her over the water.
Night took on the intimacy
of a small plaza.
Drunken Civil Guards
were hammering on the door.
O green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea.
And the horse on the mountain.
English translation by Paul Archer of Lorca's Romance Sonámbulo.
For more translations of poems by Lorca, go to Translations.
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