- 288 pages
- English
- ePUB (mobile friendly)
- Available on iOS & Android
eBook - ePub
Poet in New York
About this book
"The definitive version of Lorca's masterpiece, in language that is as alive and molten today as was the original." —John Ashbery
Newly translated for the first time in ten years, Federico García Lorca's Poet in New York is an astonishing depiction of a tumultuous metropolis that changed the course of poetic expression in both Spain and the Americas. Written during Lorca's nine months at Columbia University at the beginning of the Great Depression, Poet in New York is widely considered one of the most important books Lorca produced. This influential collection portrays a New York City populated with poverty, racism, social turbulence, and solitude—a New York intoxicating in its vitality and beauty.
After the tragedy of September 11, 2001, poets Pablo Medina and Mark Statman were struck by how closely this seventy-year-old work spoke to the atmosphere of New York. They were compelled to create a new English version using a contemporary poet's eye, which upholds Lorca's surrealistic technique, mesmerizing complexity, and fierce emotion unlike any other translation to date. A defining work of modern literature, Poet in New York is a thrilling exposition of one American city that continues to change our perspective on the world around us.
"A worthy new version of a 20th-century classic." — Publishers Weekly
Newly translated for the first time in ten years, Federico García Lorca's Poet in New York is an astonishing depiction of a tumultuous metropolis that changed the course of poetic expression in both Spain and the Americas. Written during Lorca's nine months at Columbia University at the beginning of the Great Depression, Poet in New York is widely considered one of the most important books Lorca produced. This influential collection portrays a New York City populated with poverty, racism, social turbulence, and solitude—a New York intoxicating in its vitality and beauty.
After the tragedy of September 11, 2001, poets Pablo Medina and Mark Statman were struck by how closely this seventy-year-old work spoke to the atmosphere of New York. They were compelled to create a new English version using a contemporary poet's eye, which upholds Lorca's surrealistic technique, mesmerizing complexity, and fierce emotion unlike any other translation to date. A defining work of modern literature, Poet in New York is a thrilling exposition of one American city that continues to change our perspective on the world around us.
"A worthy new version of a 20th-century classic." — Publishers Weekly
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Yes, you can access Poet in New York by Federico García Lorca, Pablo Medina in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Literature & Poetry. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.
Information
III
Calles y sueños
A Rafael R. Rapún
Un pájaro de papel en el pecho
dice que el tiempo de los besos no ha llegado.
dice que el tiempo de los besos no ha llegado.
—Vicente Aleixandre
III
Streets and Dreams
To Rafael R. Rapún
A paper bird in the breast
says the time of kisses has not arrived.
says the time of kisses has not arrived.
—Vicente Aleixandre
DANZA DE LA MUERTE
El mascarón. ¡Mirad el mascarón!
¡Cómo viene del África a New York!
Se fueron los árboles de la pimienta,
los pequeños botones de fósforo.
Se fueron los camellos de carne desgarrada
y los valles de luz que el cisne levantaba con el pico.
Era el momento de las cosas secas,
de la espiga en el ojo y el gato laminado,
del óxido de hierro de los grandes puentes
y el definitivo silencio del corcho.
Era la gran reunión de los animales muertos,
traspasados por las espadas de la luz;
la alegría eterna del hipopótamo con las pezuñas de ceniza
y de la gacela con una siempreviva en la garganta.
En la marchita soledad sin honda
el abollado mascarón danzaba.
Medio lado del mundo era de arena,
mercurio y sol dormido el otro medio.
El mascarón. ¡Mirad el mascarón!
¡Arena, caimán y miedo sobre Nueva York!
*
Desfiladeros de cal aprisionaban un cielo vacío
donde sonaban las voces de los que mueren bajo el guano.
Un cielo mondado y puro, idéntico a sí mismo,
con el bozo y lirio agudo de sus montañas invisibles,
DANCE OF DEATH
The mask, look at the mask!
How it comes from Africa to New York!
The pepper trees left,
the small buds of phosphorus.
The flesh-torn camels left
and the valleys of light the swan lifted with its beak.
It was the moment of dry things,
of the wheat stalk in the eye and the laminated cat,
of the rusted iron of the great bridges
and the ultimate silence of cork.
It was the great reunion of dead animals,
pierced by swords of light;
the eternal joy of the hippopotamus with its hooves of ash
and of the gazelle with the everlasting flower in its throat.
In the faded solitude without a sling
the dented mask was dancing.
Half the world was sand,
the other half mercury and sleeping sun.
The mask, look at the mask!
Sand, caiman, and fear over Nueva York!
*
Canyons of lime imprisoned an empty sky
where the voices of those dying under guano sounded.
A sky cleansed and pure, identical to itself,
soft down and sharp lily of its invisible mountains
acabó con los más leves tallitos del canto
y se fue al diluvio empaquetado de la savia,
a través del descanso de los últimos desfiles,
levantando con el rabo pedazos de espejo.
Cuando el chino lloraba en el tejado
sin encontrar el desnudo de su mujer
y el director del banco observaba el manómetro
que mide el cruel silencio de la moneda,
el mascarón llegaba a Wall Street.
No es extraño para la danza
este columbario que pone los ojos amarillos.
De la esfinge a la caja de caudales hay un hilo tenso
que atraviesa el corazón de todos los niños pobres.
El ímpetu primitivo baila con el ímpetu mecánico,
ignorantes en su frenesí de la luz original.
Porque si la rueda olvida su fórmula,
ya puede cantar desnuda con las manadas de caballos:
y si una llama quema los helados proyectos,
el cielo tendrá que huir ante el tumulto de las ventanas.
No es extraño este sitio para la danza, yo lo digo.
El mascarón bailará entre columnas de sangre y de números,
entre huracanes de oro y gemidos de obreros parados
que aullarán, noche oscura, por tu tiempo sin luces,
¡oh salvaje Norteamérica!, ¡oh impúdica!, ¡oh salvaje,
tendida en la frontera de la nieve!
El mascarón. ¡Mirad el mascarón!
¡Qué ola de fango y luciérnaga sobre Nueva York!
*
destroyed the slightest stems of song
and went to the deluge dense with sap
through the pause of the final parades,
lifting pieces of mirror with its tail.
When the Chinaman cried on the roof
without finding the nude of his wife
and the bank director watched the pressure gauge
that measures the cruel silence of coins,
the mask arrived on Wall Street.
It isn’t foreign to the dance
this columbarium that yellows the eyes.
From the sphinx to the vault there is a tense thread
that pierces the heart of all poor children.
The primitive drive dances with the mechanical drive,
ignorant in their frenzy of original light.
Because if the wheel forgets its formula
it still can sing nude with herds of horses:
and if a flame burns the frozen plans,
the sky will have to flee before the tumult of the windows.
This place isn’t foreign to the dance, I say it.
The mask will dance between columns of blood and numbers,
between hurricanes of gold and moans of idled workers,
who will howl, dark night, for your time without lights.
O savage North America. O impudent and savage,
lying on the frontier of snow!
The mask, look at the mask!
The wave of mud and fireflies over New York!
*
Yo estaba en la terraza luchando con la luna.
Enjambres de ventanas acribillaban un muslo de la noche.
En mis ojos bebían las dulces vacas de los cielos.
Y las brisas de largos remos
golpeaban los cenicientos cristales de Broadway.
La gota de sangre buscaba la luz de la yema del astro
para fingir una muerta semilla de manzana.
El aire de la llanura, empujado por los pastores...
Table of contents
- Cover Page
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication Page
- Contents
- Foreword
- Introduction
- I. Poemas De La Soledad En Columbia University
- II. Los Negros
- III. Calles Y Sueños
- IV. Poemas Del Lago Eden Mills
- V. En La Cabaña Del Farmer (Campo de Newburg)
- VI. IntroducciÓn a La Muerte Poemas de la soledad en Vermont
- VII. Vuelta A La Ciudad
- VIII. Dos Odas
- IX. Huida De Nueva York Dos valses hacia la civilización
- X. El Poeta Llega A La Habana
- Acknowledgments
- Notes on the Poems
- Futher Reading