More raw Lorca: “La monja gitana”

More Lorca from the closet:

A few weeks ago I was googling Lorca– I forget why—particularly this poem about the gypsy nun. I ‘m posting it here mostly because the introductory offer of Word 2007 that came with my netbook just ran out and this is the fastest way I can think of to get the text in a place where I can look at it.  The first part is in Spanish, the second part in English (courtesy of Google translate, hence the odd word choices) and the last part is my personal reaction, mostly just thinking out loud not done yet, but will probably be some photos of bees on clematis once WordPress fixes their current image editing problems. Mostly my thinking out loud stuff stays in the back room, but once I published one by mistake briefly and someone actually enjoyed it and was puzzled when I unpublished it again,  so FWIW, this one gets published.


A José Moreno Villa

Silencio de cal y mirto.
Malvas en las hierbas finas.
La monja borda alhelíes
sobre una tela pajiza.                    4

Vuelan en la araña gris
siete pájaros del prisma.
La iglesia gruñe a lo lejos
como un oso panza arriba.           8

¡Que bien borda! ¡Con qué gracia!
Sobre la tela pajiza
ella quisiera bordar
flores de su fantasía.                      12

¡Qué girasol! ¡Qué magnolia
de lentejuelas y cintas!
¡Qué azafranes y qué lunas,
en el mantel de la misa!                16

Cinco toronjas se endulzan
en la cercana cocina.
Las cinco llagas de Cristo
cortadas en Almería.                      20

Por los ojos de la monja
galopan dos caballistas.
Un rumor último y sordo
le despega la camisa,                       24

y al mirar nubes y montes
en las yertas lejanías,
se quiebra su corazón
de azúcar y yerbaluisa.                   28

¡Oh, qué llanura empinada
con veinte soles arriba!
¡Qué ríos puestos de pie
vislumbra su fantasía!                     32

Pero sigue con sus flores,
mientras que de pie, en la brisa,
la luz juega el ajedrez
alto de la celosía.                                 36


google translate:


José Moreno Villa

Silence of lime and myrtle.
Hollyhocks in the fresh herbs.
The nun embroiders thatched
wallflowers onto a canvas.                 4

Fly in the gray spider
seven birds of the prism.
The church growls in the distance
like a bear belly up.                              8

How good side! How funny!
On the straw-colored fabric
she would embroider
flowers of her fantasy.                      12

What a sunflower! What magnolia
sequins and ribbons!
What crocuses and what moons
on the tablecloth of the Mass!        16

Five sweetened grapefruit
in the nearby kitchen.
The five wounds of Christ
cut in Almeria.                                      20

Through the eyes of the nun
two horsemen gallop.
A rumor last and deaf
he takes off his shirt                            24

and looking at clouds and mountains
stiff in the distances,
your heart breaks
sugar and verbena.                              28

Oh, what a steep plateau
twenty soles up!
What rivers standing positions
sees its fantasy!                                     32

But still with her flowers
while standing in the breeze,
light plays chess
top of the lattice.                                  36


And now–two gratuitous bees:

Posted in Poetry. Comments Off on More raw Lorca: “La monja gitana”