Spanish poet & playwright (1898-1936)
In our eyes the roads
are endless.
Two are crossroads of
the shadow.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
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"Eyes"
For each kiss I gave you
a huge cluster of tears!
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"Abandoned"
My tongue is pierced with glass.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
Blood Wedding
Everything's a fan.
Brother, open up your arms.
God is the pivot.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"Rays"
Even money, which shines so much, spits sometimes.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
Blood Wedding
Oh, what grief not to have
grief, and to spend your life
on the colorless grass
of the undecided path!
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"Crossroads"
A dead man in Spain is more alive than a dead man anywhere in the world.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"Theory and Play of the Duende", A Poet in New York
Devoutly the teachers point out huge fumigated domes;
but beneath the statues there's no love,
no love beneath the eyes set in crystal.
Love is there, in flesh ripped by thirst,
in the tiny hut struggling against the flood;
love is there, in ditches where snakes of hunger wrestle,
in the sad sea that rocks dead gulls,
and in the darkest stinging kiss under pillows.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"Cry to Rome", A Poet in New York
All one's personality is embedded in gloves and hats after they've been good and used. Show me a glove and I'll tell you the character of its owner.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
letter to Ana Maria Dali, autumn 1925
The still pool of your mouth
under a thicket of kisses.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"Remansos: Variación", El Diván del Tamarit
The moon carries the masks of meningitis into bedrooms, fills the wombs of pregnant women with cold water and, as soon as I'm not careful, throws handfuls of grass on my shoulders.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
The Public
Adam & Eve.
The serpent cracked
the mirror
in a thousand pieces,
& the apple
was his rock.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"Initium"
Only mystery allows us to live, only mystery.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
attributed, Only Mystery: Federico García Lorca's Poetry in Word and Image
Let the skein never end
of I love you you love me, ever burnt
with decrepit sun and old moon;
for whatever you don't give me and I don't ask of you
will be for death, which does not leave
even a shadow on trembling flesh.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"The Poet Tells the Truth"
Moon
like a large stainedglass window
that breaks on the ocean.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"A Game of Moons"
The wounds were burning like suns
at five in the afternoon,
and the crowd broke the windows
At five in the afternoon.
Ah, that fatal five in the afternoon!
It was five by all the clocks!
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"Llanto por Ignacio Sanchez Mejias"
Relish the fresh landscape of my wound,
break rushes and delicate rivulets,
drink blood poured on honeyed thigh.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
"Sonnet of the Garland of Roses"
The world is a shoulder of dark meat (black flesh of an old mule). And the light is on the other side.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
letter to Melchor Fernandez Almagro, autumn 1924
Life is laughter amid a rosary of death.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
attributed, Only Mystery: Federico García Lorca's Poetry in Word and Image
My poetry is a game.
My life is a game.
But I am not a game.
FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA
letter to Melchor Fernandez Almagro, autumn 1924