Federico Garcia Lorca
Federico Garcia Lorca
Federico del Sagrado Corazón de Jesús García Lorca, known as Federico García Lorcawas a Spanish poet, playwright, and theatre director...
NationalitySpanish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth5 June 1898
CountrySpain
flower cutting sea
I have often lost myself in the sea, ears full of newly cut flowers, tongue full of love and agony.
broken soul mouths
But hurry, let's entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed.
death garden dying
In the garden I will die. In the rosebush they will kill me.
brother fans arms
Everything's a fan. Brother, open up your arms. God is the pivot.
house soy
Pero yo ya no soy yo Ni mi casa es ya mi casa. But now I am no longer I, nor is my house any longer my house.
air treasure
What you wouldn't have suspected lives & trembles in the air. Those treasures of the day you keep just out of reach. These come & go in truckloads but no one stops to see them.
wall old-woman
Old women can see through walls.
horse love-you wind
Green how I love you green. Green wind. Green boughs. The ship on the sea And the horse on the mountain.
dog pain regret
Never let me lose the marvel of your statue-like eyes, or the accent the solitary rose of your breath places on my cheek at night. I am afraid of being, on this shore, a branchless trunk, and what I most regret is having no flower, pulp, or clay for the worm of my despair. If you are my hidden treasure, if you are my cross, my dampened pain, if I am a dog, and you alone my master, never let me lose what I have gained, and adorn the branches of your river with leaves of my estranged Autumn.
pain distance heart
The night below. We two. Crystal of pain. You wept over great distances. My ache was a clutch of agonies over your sickly heart of sand.
stars pain heart
Today in my heart a vague trembling of stars and all roses are as white as my pain.
running grief fire
My head is full of fire and grief and my tongue runs wild, pierced with shards of glass.
dream heart blue
If blue is dream what then innocence? What awaits the heart if Love bears no arrows?
dream stars cutting
Woodcutter. Cut my shadow from me. Free me from the torment of being without fruit. Why was I born among mirrors? Day goes round and round me. The night copies me in all its stars. I want to live without my reflection. And then let me dream that ants and thistledown are my leaves and my parrots.