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Casida: The Weeping
I've closed off my balcony
as I don't wish to hear the weeping,
but out beyond these grey walls
all that can be heard is the weeping.
There are so few angels that sing,
so few hounds that howl,
so many violins can fit into the palm of my hand.
But the weeping is a huge hound,
the weeping is a huge angel,
the weeping is a huge violin,
tears have muzzled the wind
and all that can be heard is the weeping.
English translation by Paul Archer of Lorca's Casida del llanto.
For more poems from this collection, go to El Diván Del Tamarit. |
