Gacela del mercado matutino

GACELA DEL MERCADO MATUTINO Por el arco de Elvira quiero verte pasar, para saber tu nombre y ponerme a llorar.

¿Qué luna gris de las nueve te desangró la mejilla? ¿Quién recoge tu semilla de llamarada en la nieve? ¿Qué alfiler de cactus breve asesina tu cristal? Por el arco de Elvira voy a verte pasar, para beber tus ojos y ponerme a llorar. ¡Qué voz para mi castigo levantas por el mercado! ¡Qué clavel enajenado en los montones de trigo! ¡Qué lejos estoy contigo, qué cerca cuando te vas! Por el arco de Elvira voy a verte pasar, para sentir tus muslos y ponerme a llorar.

TRANSLATION

Through the Arch of Elvira
I want to watch you go by,
to ask you your name
and to break down and cry.

What grey nine o'clock moon
has bled your cheek?
Who is collecting your seed
that flashes in the snow?
What short cactus needle
is murdering your crystal?

Through the Arch of Elvira
I'm going to watch you go by,
to drink in your eyes
and to break down and cry.

What a voice for my punishment
do you raise in the market!
What an outlandish carnation
in the piles of wheat!
How distant I am with you,
how close when you leave!

Through the Arch of Elvira
I'm going to watch you go by,
to feel the touch of your thighs
and to break down and cry.

This poem is GACELA XII, the last gacela of the collection Diván del Tamarit. It was first published in Madrid in 1935 in the Almanaque literario, along with other poems of this collection. It was not included in the edition that was being prepared for publication by the University of Granada at the time of Franco's military rebellion. Lorca may have considered it "too anecdotal". (Eduardo Blanco-Amor, who visited Lorca in Granada in the spring of 1934, said he knew who the poem was written for and of the circumstances in which it was created.)

I did the translation and I also took the photograph (1998). The idea for this page comes from Frank Reilly, to whom I dedicate it.

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