Gacela of Unforeseen Love (videopoem)


Video link.

I’ll be sharing this at Moving Poems in a couple of weeks, but here’s a sneak peek. For the Spanish text (or my translation), see “Federico Garcí­a Lorca: two translations,” my post from 2005.

“Gacela” means “ghazal,” but I decided to keep the Spanish word this time to avoid confusion, since Lorca’s notion of what constitutes a ghazal differs so much from the practice of contemporary English-language poets (to say nothing of Arabic poets). This was part of Lorca’s 23-poem cycle Divan del Tamarit, an homage to the great Moorish civilization of his native Andalusia.

Lorca’s free adaptations of the ghazal and qasida reflected the influence of the anthology Poemas Arábigoandaluces translated by Emilio García Gómez, which created a minor sensation among Spanish readers and intellectuals when it was published in 1930. Poets of the renowned Generation of 27, which included Lorca, found it especially revelatory. Rafael Albertí later told an interviewer, “That book opened our eyes to all that Andalusian past, and brought it so close to us that it left me with a great preoccupation for those writers, those Andalusian writers, Arabs and Jews, born in Spain… If one studies Arab-Andalusian poetry carefully, so full of metaphors and miniaturism, we will see that there is a continuity with the later poetry, of Góngora, Soto de Rojas, and centuries later, with our own.” (I’m quoting from the introduction to an English translation of the anthology, Poems of Arab Andalusia, by Cola Franzen.)

The music, as noted in the credits, is by Antony Raijekov. It’s from his Jamendo.com collection Jazz U, to which he applied a liberal Creative Commons license that allows for remixes.

Federico Garcí­a Lorca: two translations

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GHAZAL OF UNFORSEEN LOVE

No one understood the fragrance
of the dark magnolia of your womb.
No one knew how you tormented
a hummingbird of love between your teeth.

A thousand Persian ponies bedded down
in the moonlit plaza of your forehead
while for four nights I lassoed
your waist, the enemy of snow.

Between gypsum and jasmine, your glance
was a pale branchful of seeds.
I searched my breast to give you
the ivory letters that spell always,

always, always: garden of my agony,
your body forever fugitive,
the blood of your veins in my mouth
and your mouth already my tomb, emptied of light.

*

GACELA DEL AMOR IMPREVISTO

Nadie comprendí­a el perfume
de la oscura magnolia de tu vientre.
Nadie sabí­a que martirizabas
un colibrí­ de amor entre los dientes.

Mil caballitos persas se dormí­an
en la plaza con luna de tu frente,
mientras que yo enlazaba cuatro noches
tu cintura, enemiga de la nieve.

Entre yeso y jazmines, tu mirada
era un pálido ramo de simientes.
Yo busqué, para darte, por mi pecho
las letras de marfil que dicen
siempre,

siempre, siempre: jardí­n de mi agoní­a,
tu cuerpo fugitivo para siempre,
la sangre de tus venas en mi boca,
tu boca ya sin luz para mi muerte.

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GHAZAL OF THE TERRIBLE PRESENCE

Let the water do without a place to settle;
let the wind do without valleys.

Let the night do without eyes
and my heart without its flower of gold.

I want the steers to talk with the large leaves
and the earthworm to die of shadow.

I want the teeth gleaming in the skull
and the silks drowning in yellow.

I can see the duel between the wounded night
and noon, how they twist and tangle.

I resist a twilight of green venom
and collapsed arches where time suffers on.

But don’t illuminate this limpid nude of yours
like some black cactus open in the bulrushes.

Leave me in an agony of longing for dark planets,
but do not teach me the ways of your cool waist.

*

GACELA DE LA TERRIBLE PRESENCIA

Yo quiero que el agua se quede sin cauce,
yo quiero que el viento se quede sin valles.

Quiero que la noche se quede sin ojos
y mi corazón sin flor del oro;

que los bueyes hablen con las grandes hojas
y que la lombriz se muera de sombra;

que brillen los dientes de la calavera
y los amarillos inunden la seda.

Puedo ver el duelo de la noche herida
luchando enroscada con el mediodí­a.

Resiste un ocaso de verde veneno
y los arcos rotos donde sufre el tiempo.

Pero no ilumines tu limpio desnudo
como un negro cactus abierto en los juncos.

Déjame en un ansia de oscuros planetas,
pero no me enseñes tu cintura fresca.