Federico García Lorca [English translation]

You waved the bolero for a single moment, along with your deep orange undergarment.

It might or it might not have been August I recall, back then when the crusaders were leaving in troups

Flags were escorting the wind, and warships were starting their journey,

breastfeeding babies were getting goosebumps,

and the old lazy man was sunning his groing

The bull's Picasso

was snorting heavily

And within the beehives the honey was rotting back then.

"Full reverse, course for the North, head forward, we'll be right behind you, don't you worry about it"

Under the sun, the olive trees were lying in peace,

and little crosses were sprouting in the orchards

During the nights the embraces were being left infertile, back then that they brought you, swarthy man, all wrapped up

You gypsy and master of mine, what should I use to adorn you?

Bring the red Mauritanian dress

On the wall of Kaisariani,

they brought us from behind,

and as high as a grown man, they pilled up the stack

Young girls from Distomo,

bring water and vinegar

and while cross tied on your filly, go for that final trip to Cordoba, through its thirsty open fields.

Upside down boat of the swamp, thin without a keel,

tools that are rusting in a gypsy cave,

a flock of crows flying through the deserted arena

and seven dogs howlng in the village during the night