In Search of Duende by Federico Garcia Lorca (Re-post)

This is a favorite poem series of mine lately from an amazing book about the Spanish concept of duende.

Poem of the Saeta

ARCHERS

The dark archers
approach Seville.

The open Guadalquivir.

Broad gray hats,
long slow cloaks.

Ay, Guadalquivir.

They come from remote regions of sorrow.

The open Guadalquivir.

And they go to a labyrinth.
Love, crystal, and rock.

Ay, Guadalquivir!

NIGHT

Candle, lamp,
lantern, and firefly.

The constellation
of the dart.

Little windows of gold
trembling,
and cross upon cross
rocking in the dawn.

Candle, lamp,
lantern, and firely.

SEVILLE

Seville is a tower
full of fine archers.

Seville to wound.
Cordoba to die in.

A city that lurks
for long rhythms,
and twists them
like labyrinths.
Like tendrils of a vine
burning.

Seville to wound!

Under the arch of the sky,
across the clear plain,
she shoots the constant
arrow of her river.

Cordoba to die in!

And mad with horizons,
she mixes in her wine
the bitterness of Don Juan
and the perfection of Dionysus.

Seville to wound.
Always Seville to wound!

PROCESSION

Through the lanes
come strange unicorns.
From what fields,
from what mythological forest?
Nearer,
they look like astronomers.
Fantastic Merlins,
and the Ecce Homo.
Enchanted Durandarte.
Orlando Furioso.

PASO

Virgin in crinoline,
Virgin of Solitude,
opened like an immense
tulip.
In your ship of lights
you go
along the high tide
of the city,
among turbid saetas
and crystal stars.
Virgin in crinoline,
you godown the river of the street
to the sea!

ARROW

Brown Christ
passes
from the lily of Judea
to the carnation of Spain.

Look where he comes!

From Spain.
Sky clear and dark,
parched land,
and watercourses where very
slowly runs the water.
Brown Christ,
with the burned forelocks,
the jutting cheekbones
and the white pupils.

Look where he goes!

BALCONY

Lola
sings saetas.
The little bullfighters
circle around her
and the little barber,
from his doorway,
follows the rhythms
with his head.
Between the sweet basis
and the mint,
Lola sings
saetas.
That same Lola
who looked so long
at herself in the pool.

EARLY MORNING

But like love,
the archers
are blind.

Over the green night
the arrows
leave tracks of warmlilies.

The keel of the moon
breaks purple clouds
and the quivers
fill with dew.

Ah, but like love,
the archers
are blind!

Currently listening : I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor By Arctic Monkeys Release date: 12 November, 2005