Quotes from Federico Garcia Lorca

The round silence of night, one note on the stave of the infinite. Ripe with lost poems, I step naked into the street. The blackness riddled by the singing of crickets: sound, that dead will-o'-the-wisp, that musical light perceived by the spirit. A thousand butterfly skeletons sleep within my walls. A wild crowd of young breezes over the river. - Hour of Stars (1920)

Like a snake, my heart has shed its skin. I hold it here in my hand, full of honey and wounds. - New Heart

The night below. We two. Crystal of pain. You wept over great distances. My ache was a clutch of agonies over your sickly heart of sand.

But hurry, let's entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed.

In the parched pathI have seen the good lizard(one drop of crocodile)meditating.

With their souls of patent leather, they come down the road. Hunched and nocturnal, where they breathe they impose, silence of dark rubber, and fear of fine sand.

The light is buried under chains and noisesin impudent challenge of rootless science.Through the suburbs sleepless people stagger,as though just delivered from a shipwreck of blood.

The New York dawn hasfour columns of mudand a hurricane of black dovesthat paddle in putrescent waters.

At five in the afternoon.Ah, that fatal five in the afternoon!It was five by all the clocks!It was five in the shade of the afternoon!

Green, how much I want you green.Green wind. Green branches.The ship upon the seaand the horse in the mountain.

Black are the horses.The horseshoes are black.On the dark capes glistenstains of ink and of wax.Their skulls are leaden,which is why they don't weep.With their patent leather soulsthey come down the street.

The two elements the traveler first captures in the big city are extra human architecture and furious rhythm. Geometry and anguish.

I will not see it!Tell the moon to comefor I do not want to see the bloodof Ignacio on the sand.

I touched her sleeping breasts,and they opened to me suddenlylike spikes of hyacinth.

Vendrán las iguanas vivas a morder a los hombres que no sueñan

The little boy was looking for his voice. (The king of the crickets had it.) In a drop of water the little boy was looking for his voice. I do not want it for speaking with; I will make a ring of it so that he may wear my silence on his little finger In a drop of water the little boy was looking for his voice. (The captive voice, far away, put on a cricket's clothes.) - The Little Mute Boy Translated by William S. Merwin

But hurry, let's entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed.

I am the immense shadow of my tears

Pero yo ya no soy yo Ni mi casa es ya mi casa. But now I am no longer I, nor is my house any longer my house.

In Spain the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world.

If blue is dream what then innocence? What awaits the heart if Love bears no arrows?

If I told you the whole story it would never end...What's happened to me has happened to a thousand woman.

New York is something awful, something monstrous. I like to walk the streets, lost, but I recognize that New York is the world's greatest lie. New York is Senegal with machines.

Green how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches.