Lorca

Death


What effort!
What an effort for a horse to be a dog!
What effort for a dog to be a swallow!
What effort for a swallow to be a bee!
What effort for a bee to be a horse!
And the horse,
what a sharp arrow it squeezes from the rose
what a gray rose rises from its lips!
And the rose,
what a rain of lights and cries
Does it tie in the living sugar of its trunk.
And the sugar,
what tiny daggers does it dream in its vigil!
And the tiny daggers,
what a moon without stables, what nakedness,
what eternal, blushing skin, they seek!
And I, through the eaves,
what burning angel do I seek, and am I!
But the arc of gypsum
how great, how invisible, how small
and without effort.


trns. by Caridad Svich


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