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Casida: The Branches
Into the orchards at Tamarit
the leaden dogs have come
waiting for the branches to fall,
waiting for them to break off by themselves.
At Tamarit there's an apple-tree
with weeping apples.
A nightingale rounds up the sighs
and a pheasant sweeps them away through the dust.
But the branches are cheerful,
the branches are like us.
Not thinking of the rain and going to sleep
at once as if they were trees.
Sitting with water up to their knees
two valleys wait for autumn.
Twilight with elephant steps
tramples its way through branches and trunks.
In the orchards at Tamarit
there are many children with veiled faces
waiting for the branches to fall,
waiting for them to break off by themselves.
English translation by Paul Archer of Lorca's Casida de los ramos.
For more poems from this collection, go to El Diván Del Tamarit. |
