Federico García Lorca

Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint

  Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.

  I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my despair.

  If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone my master,

  never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.

From Selected Verse, Sonnets of Dark Love
translated by John K. Walsh and Francisco Aragon

Five poems of García Lorca

Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias

The Faithless Wife

The Gypsy and the Wind

Ditty of First Desire

Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint


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