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
love wind green
Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verde ramas. Green I love you green. Green Wind. Green branches.
spring first-love dark
Oh honey, there's nothing new on this earth when it comes to what men and women do in the dark. First love is when you learn. So you've learned that love can open you up like spring sun on a wee primrose. Good. Remember that. You know how to love.
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.
kissing love-is water
Love is the kiss in the quiet nest while the leaves are trembling, mirrored in the water.
unrequited-love memorable punishment
To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.
color wind branches
Green how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches.
girl character past
There's no doubt that I really have a feeling for the theater. These past few days it has occurred to me to do a comedy whose chief characters are photographic enlargements. Those people we see in doorways. Newlyweds, sergeants, dead girls, an anonymous crowd full of mustaches and wrinkles. It should be terrible. If I focus it well, it will possess pathos without consolation. In the midst of those people I will place an authentic fairy.
serenity silence apprenticeship
In each thing there is an insinuation of death. Stillness, silence, serenity are all apprenticeships.
glasses tongue
My tongue is pierced with glass.
shining sometimes spit
Even money, which shines so much, spits sometimes.
pain eye air
Everyone understands the pain that accompanies death, but genuine pain doesn't live in the spirit, nor in the air, nor in our lives, nor on these terraces of billowing smoke. The genuine pain that keeps everything awake is a tiny, infinite burn on the innocent eyes of other systems.
white wife today
The bride, the white bride today a maiden, tomorrow a wife.
distance doors silence
We're all like the little sailor. From the harbors we hear the strains of accordions and the murky soapy noises of the docks, from the mountains we receive the dish of silence that the shepherds eat, but we don't hear more than our own distances. And what distances without end and without doors and without mountains!
dark light black
The world is a shoulder of dark meat (black flesh of an old mule). And the light is on the other side.