REMANSOS
REMANSO, FINAL SONG
The night is coming.
The moonlight strikes
on evening’s anvil.
The night is coming.
A giant tree clothes itself
in the leaves of cantos.
The night is coming.
If you came to see me,
on the path of storm-winds....
The night is coming.
....you would find me crying,
under high, black poplars.
Ay, girl with the dark hair!
Under high, black poplars.
Federico García Lorca
Translation by A. S. Kline
¹ A remanso is a still pool in running water, the liquid calm that is not swept on by the flow. I have translated remanso elsewhere to signify what remains, as Lorca’s spirit remains, in the body of his poems.
Original version
