federico garcia lorca ode to walt whitman - oda a walt whitman

8/12/2019 Federico Garcia Lorca Ode to Walt Whitman - Oda a Walt Whitman

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/federico-garcia-lorca-ode-to-walt-whitman-oda-a-walt-whitman 1/7

Federico Garcia Lorca

Ode to Walt Whitman

By the East River and the Bronx boys were singing, exposing their waistswith the wheel, with oil, leather, and the hammer. Ninety thousand miners taking silver from the rocksand children drawing stairs and perspectives.

But none of them could sleep,none of them wanted to be the river,none of them loved the huge leavesor the shoreline's blue tongue.

By the East River and the ueensboro boys were battling with industryand the !ews sold to the river faun

the rose of circumcision,and over bridges and rooftops, the mouth of the sky emptiedherds of bison driven by the wind.

But none of them paused,none of them wanted to be a cloud,none of them looked for fernsor the yellow wheel of a tambourine.

"s soon as the moon risesthe pulleys will spin to alter the sky#

a border of needles will besiege memoryand the coffins will bear away those who don't work.

New $ork, mire, New $ork, mire and death.%hat angel is hidden in your cheek&%hose perfect voice will sing the truths of wheat&%ho, the terrible dream of your stained anemones&

Not for a moment, %alt %hitman, lovely old man,have failed to see your beard full of butterflies,

nor your corduroy shoulders frayed by the moon,nor your thighs pure as "pollo's,nor your voice like a column of ash,old man, beautiful as the mist,you moaned like a birdwith its sex pierced by a needle.Enemy of the satyr,enemy of the vine,and lover of bodies beneath rough cloth...



Not for a moment, virile beauty,who among mountains of coal, billboards, and railroads,dreamed of becoming a river and sleeping like a river with that comrade who would place in your breastthe small ache of an ignorant leopard.

Not for a moment, "dam of blood, (acho,man alone at sea, %alt %hitman, lovely old man, because on penthouse roofs,gathered at bars,emerging in bunches from the sewers,trembling between the legs of chauffeurs,or spinning on dance floors wet with absinthe,the faggots, %alt %hitman, point you out.

)e's one, too* +hat's right* "nd they land

on your luminous chaste beard, blonds from the north, blacks from the sands,crowds of howls and gestures,like cats or like snakes,the faggots, %alt %hitman, the faggots,clouded with tears, flesh for the whip,the boot, or the teeth of the lion tamers.

)e's one, too* +hat's right* tained fingers point to the shore of your dreamwhen a friend eats your apple

with a slight taste of gasolineand the sun sings in the navelsof boys who play under bridges.

But you didn't look for scratched eyes,nor the darkest swamp where someone submerges children,nor fro-en saliva,nor the curves slit open like a toad's bellythat the faggots wear in cars and on terraceswhile the moon lashes them on the street corners of terror.

$ou looked for a naked body like a river.Bull and dream who would oin wheel with seaweed,father of your agony, camellia of your death,who would groan in the bla-e of your hidden e/uator.

Because it's all right if a man doesn't look for his delightin tomorrow morning's ungle of blood.+he sky has shores where life is avoidedand there are bodies that shouldn't repeat themselves in the dawn.



"gony, agony, dream, ferment, and dream.+his is the world, my friend, agony, agony.Bodies decompose beneath the city clocks,war passes by in tears, followed by a million gray rats,the rich give their mistressessmall illuminated dying things,and life is neither noble, nor good, nor sacred.

(an is able, if he wishes, to guide his desirethrough a vein of coral or a heavenly naked body.+omorrow, loves will become stones, and +imea bree-e that drowses in the branches.

+hat's why don't raise my voice, old %alt %hitman,against the little boy who writesthe name of a girl on his pillow,

nor against the boy who dresses as a bridein the darkness of the wardrobe,nor against the solitary men in casinoswho drink prostitution's water with revulsion,nor against the men with that green look in their eyeswho love other men and burn their lips in silence.

But yes against you, urban faggots,tumescent flesh and unclean thoughts.(others of mud. )arpies. leepless enemiesof the love that bestows crowns of oy.

"lways against you, who give boysdrops of foul death with bitter poison."lways against you,0airies of North "merica,12 aros of )avana,!otos of (exico,

arasas of 32di-,"pios of eville,3ancos of (adrid,0loras of "licante,

"delaidas of 1ortugal.0aggots of the world, murderers of doves*

laves of women. +heir bedroom bitches.4pening in public s/uares like feverish fansor ambushed in rigid hemlock landscapes.

No /uarter given* 5eathspills from your eyes



and gathers gray flowers at the mire's edge. No /uarter given* "ttention*6et the confused, the pure,the classical, the celebrated, the supplicantsclose the doors of the bacchanal to you.

"nd you, lovely %alt %hitman, stay asleep on the )udson's bankswith your beard toward the pole, openhanded.oft clay or snow, your tongue calls for

comrades to keep watch over your unbodied ga-elle.

leep on, nothing remains.5ancing walls stir the prairiesand "merica drowns itself in machinery and lament.

want the powerful air from the deepest nightto blow away flowers and inscriptions from the arch where you sleep,and a black child to inform the gold7craving whites

that the kingdom of grain has arrived.8 8 8

Federico García Lorca

Oda a Walt Whitman

1or el East River y el Bronxlos muchachos cantaban ense9ando sus cinturas,con la rueda, el aceite, el cuero y el martillo. Noventa mil mineros sacaban la plata de las rocas

y los ni9os dibu aban escaleras y perspectivas.1ero ninguno se dorm:a,ninguno /uer:a ser el r:o,ninguno amaba las ho as grandes,ninguno la lengua a-ul de la playa.

1or el East River y el ueensboroughlos muchachos luchaban con la industria,y los ud:os vend:an al fauno del r:ola rosa de la circuncisi;n

y el cielo desembocaba por los puentes y los te adosmanadas de bisontes empu adas por el viento.

1ero ninguno se deten:a,ninguno /uer:a ser nube,ninguno buscaba los helechosni la rueda amarilla del tamboril.

3uando la luna salga



las poleas rodar2n para tumbar el cielo#un l:mite de agu as cercar2 la memoriay los ata<des se llevar2n a los /ue no traba an.

Nueva $ork de cieno, Nueva $ork de alambres y de muerte.= u> 2ngel llevas oculto en la me illa&= u> vo- perfecta dir2 las verdades del trigo&= ui>n el sue9o terrible de sus an>monas manchadas&

Ni un solo momento, vie o hermoso %alt %hitman,he de ado de ver tu barba llena de mariposas,ni tus hombros de pana gastados por la luna,ni tus muslos de "polo virginal,ni tu vo- como una columna de ceni-a#anciano hermoso como la niebla/ue gem:as igual /ue un p2 aro

con el sexo atravesado por una agu a,enemigo del s2tiro,enemigo de la vidy amante de los cuerpos ba o la burda tela. Ni un solo momento, hermosura viril/ue en montes de carb;n, anuncios y ferrocarriles,so9abas ser un r:o y dormir como un r:ocon a/uel camarada /ue pondr:a en tu pechoun pe/ue9o dolor de ignorante leopardo.

Ni un s;lo momento, "d2n de sangre, macho,

hombre solo en el mar, vie o hermoso %alt %hitman, por/ue por las a-oteas,agrupados en los bares,saliendo en racimos de las alcantarillas,temblando entre las piernas de los chauffeurso girando en las plataformas del a en o,los maricas, %alt %hitman, te so9aban.

?+ambi>n ese* ?+ambi>n* $ se despe9ansobre tu barba luminosa y casta,rubios del norte, negros de la arena,

muchedumbres de gritos y ademanes,como gatos y como las serpientes,los maricas, %alt %hitman, los maricasturbios de l2grimas, carne para fusta, bota o mordisco de los domadores.

?+ambi>n >se* ?+ambi>n* 5edos te9idosapuntan a la orilla de tu sue9ocuando el amigo come tu man-ana



con un leve sabor de gasolinay el sol canta por los ombligosde los muchachos /ue uegan ba o los puentes.

1ero t< no buscabas los o os ara9ados,ni el pantano oscur:simo donde sumergen a los ni9os,ni la saliva helada,ni las curvas heridas como pan-a de sapo/ue llevan los maricas en coches y terra-asmientras la luna los a-ota por las es/uinas del terror.

+< buscabas un desnudo /ue fuera como un r:o,toro y sue9o /ue unte la rueda con el alga, padre de tu agon:a, camelia de tu muerte,y gimiera en las llamas de tu ecuador oculto.

1or/ue es usto /ue el hombre no bus/ue su deleite

en la selva de sangre de la ma9ana pr;xima.El cielo tiene playas donde evitar la viday hay cuerpos /ue no deben repetirse en la aurora.

"gon:a, agon:a, sue9o, fermento y sue9o.@ste es el mundo, amigo, agon:a, agon:a.6os muertos se descomponen ba o el relo de las ciudades,la guerra pasa llorando con un mill;n de ratas grises,los ricos dan a sus /ueridas pe/ue9os moribundos iluminados,y la vida no es noble, ni buena, ni sagrada.

1uede el hombre, si /uiere, conducir su deseo por vena de coral o celeste desnudo.(a9ana los amores ser2n rocas y el +iempouna brisa /ue viene dormida por las ramas.

1or eso no levanto mi vo-, vie o %alt %h:tman,contra el ni9o /ue escribenombre de ni9a en su almohada,ni contra el muchacho /ue se viste de noviaen la oscuridad del ropero,

ni contra los solitarios de los casinos/ue beben con asco el agua de la prostituci;n,ni contra los hombres de mirada verde/ue aman al hombre y /ueman sus labios en silencio.1ero s: contra vosotros, maricas de las ciudades,de carne tumefacta y pensamiento inmundo,madres de lodo, arp:as, enemigos sin sue9odel "mor /ue reparte coronas de alegr:a.



3ontra vosotros siempre, /ue dais a los muchachosgotas de sucia muerte con amargo veneno.3ontra vosotros siempre,0aeries de Norteam>rica,12 aros de la )abana,!otos de (> ico,

arasas de 32di-,Apios de evilla,3ancos de (adrid,0loras de "licante,"delaidas de 1ortugal.

?(aricas de todo el mundo, asesinos de palomas*Esclavos de la mu er, perras de sus tocadores,abiertos en las pla-as con fiebre de abanicoo emboscadas en yertos paisa es de cicuta.

?No haya cuartel* 6a muertemana de vuestros o osy agrupa flores grises en la orilla del cieno.?No haya cuartel* ?"lerta*

ue los confundidos, los puros,los cl2sicos, los se9alados, los suplicantesos cierren las puertas de la bacanal.

$ t<, bello %alt %hitman, duerme a orillas del )udsoncon la barba hacia el polo y las manos abiertas."rcilla blanda o nieve, tu lengua est2 llamando

camaradas /ue velen tu gacela sin cuerpo.5uerme, no /ueda nada.na dan-a de muros agita las praderas

y "m>rica se anega de m2/uinas y llanto.uiero /ue el aire fuerte de la noche m2s honda

/uite flores y letras del arco donde duermesy un ni9o negro anuncie a los blancos del orola llegada del reino de la espiga.

federico garcia lorca ode to walt whitman - oda a walt whitman

Documents