From Turia I send this little dove -
sweet eyes, white feathers, noble and composed
on Grecian laurels, but it is so lost...
In sum, it spreads the flames of lasting love.
Its supple neck - white foam that runs above
rash ocean waves before they meet the coast.
It quivers, it combines purls and frost,
speaks of your absent lips, your way to laugh.
Oh move your hand along its pure wing
and hear the snowy music, the snowflakes
that praise your beauty, swirl about and sing.
So is my heart, from dawn to dawn it aches
in one eternal winter with no spring.
Dark love, like snowy music, overtakes.
Gongoran Sonnet F. G. Lorca - translation
© Copyright: Борис Старосельский, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103010700194
Свидетельство о публикации №103010700194
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Very beautiful poem you have written. Nice comparison. I feel your pain.
My regards.
Росиночка 07.01.2003 20:12 • Заявить о нарушении
My regards.
Росиночка 07.01.2003 20:12 • Заявить о нарушении
Thank you for your appreciation. I am delighted that Lorca's pain comes across through the translation. This is my reward.
Борис Старосельский 08.01.2003 10:44 Заявить о нарушении
Борис Старосельский 08.01.2003 10:44 Заявить о нарушении