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Casida: The Child Wounded by Water

I want to go down to the well,
I want to climb onto Granada's walls
to gaze at the heart impaled
on water's hidden spike.

The wounded child was groaning
under a crown of frost.
Pools, cisterns and fountains
were lifting swords into the air.
Oh, what rage of love, what slashing blades,
what dark murmuring, what white death!
And the deserts of light, how they buried
the sands of dawn!
The child was alone
with the city asleep in his throat.
Water spouting out of dreams
saves him from the ravenous algae.
The child and his agony, face to face,
enlaced like two green rains.
The child lay on the ground
curled up in his agony.

I want to go down to the well,
I want to die gulping down my death,
I want to fill my heart with moss
to see the child wounded by water.

 

English translation by Paul Archer of Lorca's Casida del herido por el agua.
For more poems from this collection, go to El Diván Del Tamarit.

Translator's note:
The poem is somewhat obscure but conveys the impression of visiting a fountain containing the statue of a boy, the stone of the statue has been damaged by the effects of water over time.

Lorca's
El Diván
Del Tamarit
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