Pages

▼

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

The Guitar



The Guitar
By Federico García Lorca

The weeping of the guitar
Begins.
The goblets of dawn
Are smashed.
The weeping of the guitar
Begins.
Useless
To silence it.
Impossible
To silence it.
It weeps monotonously
As water weeps
As the wind weeps
Over snowfields.
Impossible
To silence it.
It weeps for distant
Things.
Hot southern sands
Yearning for white camellias.
Weeps arrow without target
Evening without morning
And the first dead bird
On the branch.
Oh, guitar!
Heart mortally wounded
By five swords.

at

1 comment:

  1. UnknownMarch 10, 2015 at 10:10 PM

    I LOVE the guitar! I played for many years, mostly classical and with the youth choir. The poem is awesome.

    Peace <3
    Jay

    ReplyDelete

Thank you for commenting. I always want to know what you have to say. However, I have a few rules:
1. Always be kind and considerate to others.
2. Do not degrade other people's way of thinking.
3. I have the right to refuse or remove any comment I deem inappropriate.
4. If you comment on a post that was published over 14 days ago, it will not post immediately. Those comments are set for moderation. If it doesn't break the above rules, it will post.