BardBliss: Federico Garcia Lorca

Me at Three

Federico Garcia Lorca is yet another Latin man with whom I am in love. These Latin poets blow me away.

I am thinking about the upcoming Lenten season, and this poem seems like a good fit.

It is a conversation between children and Lorca, an adult all too aware of the bittersweet of life that is destined for death. The children are innocence and joy and beauty -- or the parts of ourselves that we give up but that are still possible to nourish, to reclaim.

Ballad Of The Little Square

The children sing
in the quiet night;
clear stream,
serene fountain!

THE CHILDREN
What joy does your divine
heart celebrate?

MYSELF
A clanging of bells
lost in the mist.

THE CHILDREN
You leave us singing
in the little square.
Clear stream,
serene fountain!

What signs of spring
do you hold in your hand?

MYSELF
A rose of blood
and a white lily.

THE CHILDREN
Dip them in water
of the antique song.
Clear stream,
serene fountain!

What do you feel in your mouth
scarlet and thirsting?

MYSELF
The savour of bones
of my great skull.

THE CHILDREN
Drink the tranquil water
of the antique song.
Clear stream,
serene fountain!

Why do you go so far
from the little square?

MYSELF
I go in search of magicians
and of princesses!

THE CHILDREN
Who showed you the path
of the poets?

MYSELF
The fountain and the stream
of the antique song.

THE CHILDREN
Do you go far, very far
from the sea and the earth?

MYSELF
My heart of silk
is filled with lights,
with lost bells,
with lilies and bees,
I will go far,
farther than those hills,
farther than the seas,
close to the stars,
to beg Christ the Lord
to give back the soul I had
of old, when I was a child,
ripened with legends,
with a feathered cap
and a wooden sword.

THE CHILDREN
You leave us singing
in the little square,
clear stream,
serene fountain!

The enormous pupils
of the parched fronds
injured by the wind,
the dead leaves weep.

(Published 1919)