Casida: The Reclining Woman
Viewing your nakedness is to remember the Earth,
the smooth Earth, unmarked by horses.
The Earth without a single reed, a pure form
shut off from the future: a zone of silver.
Viewing your nakedness is to understand the longing
of the rain as it seeks out soft shapes,
or the fever on the ocean's enormous brow
and not the glow in its cheeks.
Blood will resound through bedchambers
and come with flashing swords,
but where the toad's heart or the violet
hide themselves will be unknown to you.
Your womb is a struggle of roots,
your lips a dawn without demarcation.
Beneath the warm roses of the bed
dead men groan as they await their turn.
English translation by Paul Archer of Lorca's Casida de la mujer tendida.
For more poems from this collection, go to El Diván Del Tamarit.