Qasida of a Reclining Woman
To see you naked is to recall the earth,
the smooth earth, untrampled by horses,
an earth without plants, a simple form
closed to the future: a frontier of silver.
To see you naked is to know the thirst
of the rain as it reaches for the waists
and fevers in this vast sea of faces
without ever touching the light on your cheeks.
Blood will resound in the bedrooms,
arriving with flashing sword in hand.
But you will not find the hiding place
of the heart of the toad or the violet.
Your belly is a struggle of roots.
Your lips are a dawn with no outline.
And beneath your warm bed of roses,
dead men groan, awaiting their turn.
Federico García Lorca
Translated from Spanish by Paul Weinfield, © 2016