translated text // texto traducido
copyright // derechos de autor :: b. a. lederle
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Translator’s preface: Romance sonámbulo could quite possibly be Lorca’s most quoted poem from the ballad and it’s easy to see why. Deep within the text there’s a subtle pulse occurring - a pulse I likened to the beat of a heart. I imagined a young man who sees his first love and feel his heart beating in his chest for, what seems like, the first time ever. It is with this that I translated Sleepwalker’s Ballad. I wanted to keep Lorca’s almost Shakespearean flow and, for the most part, stayed with a word for word translation, allowing for some leniency to make up for some of the discrepancy in certain areas that, when translated word for word, just didn’t “sound” right. I hope you enjoy this true work of art. Also, at the end I included a video from 1985 of two artists putting some of the poem’s words to music - mind the wardrobe, but not the beautiful nature of the song.
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Green, oh how I want you green
Green wind. Green branches.
The boat out on the sea
and the horse in the mountain.
With the shade on the waist 5
she sleeps in her balcony.
Green flesh, green hair
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, oh how I want you green
Below the gypsy moon 10
things are looking at her
and she cannot look at them.
Green, oh how I want you green
Great frosty stars in the sky
come with the shadow fish 15
that opens the path of dawn
The fig tree rubs against the wind
with the sandpaper of its branches
and the mountain, like a cunning cat,
stiffens its bristles and brambles 20
But who will come? And from where?
She continues in her balcony
Green flesh, green hair
dreaming in the sour sea
Friend, I want to change 25
My horse for your home
My saddle for your mirror
My pocketknife for your blanket
Friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabraº 30
If I could, young one,
This deal would close.
But now I am not myself
neither is my house my home
Friend, I want to die 35
decently in my bed.
Like steel - no pain - if it can be,
with the Dutch sheets.
Don’t you see the wound that I have
from the chest to the throat? 40
Three hundred brown roses
take over your white shirt
Your blood oozes and smells
around your girdle
But now I am not myself 45
neither is my house my home
Let me rise at least
towards the high balconies
Le me rise! Let me rise
toward the high balconies 50
Handrails of the moon
for where the water resounds.
Two friends are already heading
toward the high balconies.
Leaving a trail of blood 55
Leaving a trail of tears.
Trembling in the brickwork
Chinese lanterns made of tine.
A thousand tambourines of crystal
pierced the midnight. 60
Green, I want you green
Green wind, green branches
The two friends climbed up.
The long wind, left
in the mouth a rare taste 65
of bile, of mint and of basil
Friend! Tell me, where are you?
Where is your spoiled girl?
How many times I waited for you!
How many more I waited for you... 70
Fresh face, black hair
in this green balcony.
Above the face of the well
swayed the gypsy
green flesh, green hair 75
with eyes of cold silver
An icicle of the moon
supports her above the water
The night becomes intimate
like a small plaza 80
The Guardia Civil stumble drunk
in the doorway throwing drunken punches.
Green, I want you green
Green wind, green branches
The ship above the water 85
And the horse in the mountain.
_
Translator’s preface: Romance sonámbulo could quite possibly be Lorca’s most quoted poem from the ballad and it’s easy to see why. Deep within the text there’s a subtle pulse occurring - a pulse I likened to the beat of a heart. I imagined a young man who sees his first love and feel his heart beating in his chest for, what seems like, the first time ever. It is with this that I translated Sleepwalker’s Ballad. I wanted to keep Lorca’s almost Shakespearean flow and, for the most part, stayed with a word for word translation, allowing for some leniency to make up for some of the discrepancy in certain areas that, when translated word for word, just didn’t “sound” right. I hope you enjoy this true work of art. Also, at the end I included a video from 1985 of two artists putting some of the poem’s words to music - mind the wardrobe, but not the beautiful nature of the song.
_
Green, oh how I want you green
Green wind. Green branches.
The boat out on the sea
and the horse in the mountain.
With the shade on the waist 5
she sleeps in her balcony.
Green flesh, green hair
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, oh how I want you green
Below the gypsy moon 10
things are looking at her
and she cannot look at them.
Green, oh how I want you green
Great frosty stars in the sky
come with the shadow fish 15
that opens the path of dawn
The fig tree rubs against the wind
with the sandpaper of its branches
and the mountain, like a cunning cat,
stiffens its bristles and brambles 20
But who will come? And from where?
She continues in her balcony
Green flesh, green hair
dreaming in the sour sea
Friend, I want to change 25
My horse for your home
My saddle for your mirror
My pocketknife for your blanket
Friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabraº 30
If I could, young one,
This deal would close.
But now I am not myself
neither is my house my home
Friend, I want to die 35
decently in my bed.
Like steel - no pain - if it can be,
with the Dutch sheets.
Don’t you see the wound that I have
from the chest to the throat? 40
Three hundred brown roses
take over your white shirt
Your blood oozes and smells
around your girdle
But now I am not myself 45
neither is my house my home
Let me rise at least
towards the high balconies
Le me rise! Let me rise
toward the high balconies 50
Handrails of the moon
for where the water resounds.
Two friends are already heading
toward the high balconies.
Leaving a trail of blood 55
Leaving a trail of tears.
Trembling in the brickwork
Chinese lanterns made of tine.
A thousand tambourines of crystal
pierced the midnight. 60
Green, I want you green
Green wind, green branches
The two friends climbed up.
The long wind, left
in the mouth a rare taste 65
of bile, of mint and of basil
Friend! Tell me, where are you?
Where is your spoiled girl?
How many times I waited for you!
How many more I waited for you... 70
Fresh face, black hair
in this green balcony.
Above the face of the well
swayed the gypsy
green flesh, green hair 75
with eyes of cold silver
An icicle of the moon
supports her above the water
The night becomes intimate
like a small plaza 80
The Guardia Civil stumble drunk
in the doorway throwing drunken punches.
Green, I want you green
Green wind, green branches
The ship above the water 85
And the horse in the mountain.
ºA village southeast of Córdoba, Spain
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