ADÁNADAM
Federico García Lorcatrans. Roy Campbell
Arbol de sangre moja la mañana
por donde gime la recién parida.
Su voz deja cristales en la herida
y un gráfico de hueso en la ventana.

Mientras la luz que viene fija y gana 
blancas metas de fábula que olvida
el tumulto de venas en la huída
hacia el turbio frescor de la manzana,

Adán sueña en la fiebre de la arcilla 
un niño que se acerca galopando
por el doble latir de su mejilla.

Pero otro Adán oscuro setá soñando 
neutra luna de piedra sin semilla
donde el niño de luz se irá quemando.
The morning by a tree of blood was dewed
and near to it the newborn woman groans.
Her voice left glass within the wound, and strewed
the window with a diagram of bones.

Meanwhile the day had reached with steady light 
the limits of the fable, which evades
the tumult of the bloodstream in its flight
towards the dim cool apple in the shades.

Adam, within the fever of the clay,
dreams a young child comes galloping his way,
felt in his cheeks, with double pulse of blood.

But a dark other Adam dreaming yearned 
for a stone neuter moon, where no seeds bud,
in which that child of glory will be burned.

Click here 3 for another translation of this poem.

Copyright © Herederos de Francisco García Lorca.
Trans. copyright © Yale University Press and Herederos de Francisco García Lorca - publ. New Directions Publishing Corp.

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