romance de la luna, luna :: español

texto original // original text

derechos de autor // copyright :: federico garcía lorca

La luna vino a la fragua
con su polisón de nardos.
El niño la mira, mira.
El niño la está mirando. 

En el aire conmovido
mueve la luna sus brazos
y enseña, lúbrica y pura,
sus senos de duro estaño. 

Huye luna, luna, luna.

Si vinieran los gitanos,

harían con tu corazón
collares y anillos blancos. 

Niño, déjame que baile.

Cuando vengan los gitanos,
te encontrarán sobre el yunque
con los ojillos cerrados. 

Huye luna, luna, luna,
que ya siento sus caballos. 

Niño, déjame, no pises
mi blancor almidonado. 

El jinete se acercaba 

tocando el tambor del llano. 

Dentro de la fragua el niño, 

tiene los ojos cerrados. 

Por el olivar ven'an, 

bronce y sueño, los gitanos.

Las cabezas levantadas 

y los ojos entornados. 

Cómo canta la zumaya,
¡ay, cómo canta en el árbol!
Por el cielo va la luna
con un niño de la mano. 

Dentro de la fragua lloran,
dando gritos, los gitanos.
El aire la vela, vela.
El aire la está velando.

romance de la luna, luna :: english

translated text  // texto traducido

copyright // derechos de autor :: b. a. lederle
_ 

Translator's note:  I attempted to stick closely to the original structure of the poem as noted in the original version; however, at first translation, I felt the result came off as choppy - albeit word for word correct.  I went back and arranged the words different, choosing synonyms for various verbs and adjectives in the English language that would give a more poetic feel if read out loud.  There seems to be a magnetic pulse behind the poems in Romancero and my goal was to convey that same pulse in the English language while sticking as close to the original structure as artistically possible.

_

The moon approached the forge

with her bustle˚ laden with nardos.

A young boy gazes at her

and gazes again and again.

In the agitated air 


the moon spins her arms


lewd and unadulterated, she shows 


exposing her bosoms of tough tin.

--Run away, oh moon, moon, moon!


If the gypsies come

from your heart they would make


necklaces and white rings!

--Oh, child! let me dance.


When the gypsies come


they will find you on the anvil


with your small eyes closed

--Run away, oh moon, moon, moon!
I can already feel their horses coming.


--Child, enough! leave me; do not walk


on my crisp whiteness. 

The rider came closer,
beating the drum of the plain.


Inside the forge the boy


has both eyes closed.

Through the olive grove they came,  


bronze and dreamy, the gypsies


heads, raised,


and eyes half closed.

Listen how the owl sings,


Oh! How it sings in the tree! 

Towards the heavens goes the moon,


with a child by the hand.

Within the forge they cry,


wailing, the gypsies.


The wind keeps watch over the moon,  

the wind is keeping watch.

 ˚bustle :: a pad or framework expanding and supporting the fullness and drapery of the back of a woman's skirt or dress

Nardos (also Tuberose)