Federico Garcia Lorca, high in the pantheon of the worlds poets, was born on this day, June 5, in 1898. A pleasant thing to think about, and the 38 years he gave us.

Here’s a translation of one of his poems I did some years ago.

The Rider’s Song


Black mare, big moon,
olives in my saddlebags.
Though I know the roads
I’ll never come to Cordova.

Upon the plains, upon the wind
black mare, red moon.
Death is looking down at me
from the towers of Cordova.

Aii how long the road is!
Aii my valiant mare!
Aii! the death that waits for me
before I get to Cordova!



from The Cricket Sings, New Directions, 1980

You can read more of my Lorca translations in Federico Garcia Lorca: Collected Works or in the Selected Works.