disquietingmuses


"Guitar"  Copyright 2000 Rain Jordan



The Guitar


The guitar is starting to weep now.
The cups of dawn are breaking.
The guitar is starting to weep.
No use to stop it.
You canít stop it.
It cries
monotonous as the water cries,
as the wind cries over the snowfield.
You canít stop it.
It cries for faraway things,
as sand of the scorched South
pleads for white camellias.
It cries for the arrow with no target,
the evening with no tomorrow,
and the first dead bird
on the bough. Oh, guitar!
Heart deeply wounded
by five daggers.


Federico Garcia Lorca
translation by Jim Standish copyright 2000


Contents                                                          Next Poem                                                          Bios
Site Meter