Federico García Lorca - Animation

Directed by Sheridan James Lunt. Images for the poetry of Federico García Lorca, 2011.

Sleepwalking Novel

Green I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
a boat over the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With the shadow around the waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, green hair,
with eyes of cold silver.
Green I want you green,
under the moon of the gypsies
things are looking at her
and she cannot look at them.

*

Green I want you green.
Big star frosts,
comings in shadow fish
that opens the way to the dawn.
The figurine scrapes its wind
With the file of its branches,
and the mound, arched cat,
it bristles its sour meow.
But who will come? And where...?
She goes on her porch,
green meat, green streaks,
dreaming in the bitter sea.

*

Compadre, I want to change
my horse for your house,
my saddle by your mirror,
my knife for your blanket.
Compadre, I've been bleeding,
from the Goat Hills.
If I could, boy,
that deal ended.
But I'm not me anymore,
not even my home is my home anymore.
compadre i want to die
decently in my bed.
By steel, if that's the case,
on the netherlands sheets.
Can't you see the wound I carry
from chest to throat?
three hundred brown roses
Bring your white bib.
your blood drips and stinks
Around your waistband.
But I'm not me anymore,
not even my home is my home anymore.
at least let me up
to the high verandas,
let me up, let me,
to the tall balconies.
balustrades of this moon
where the water booms.

*

The two compadres are already up
to the tall balconies.
Leaving a trail of blood.
Leaving a trail of tears.
They trembled on the roofs
The body lamps.
a thousand crystal tambourines,
they hurt the dawn.

*

Green I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The two compadres went upstairs.
The ample wind, let
in the mouth a rare taste
of gall, mint and basil.
Compadre! Where is it, tell me?
Where is your bitter girl?
How many times has he waited for you!
How many times did I wait for you,
fresh face, black locks,
here on the verandah green!

*

over the mouth of the cistern
the gypsy was rocked.
Green meat, green streaks,
with eyes of cold silver.
an icy moon pendant
hold it over the water.
The night has become intimate
like a small square.
drunken civil guards,
they were banging on the door.
Green I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
a boat on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.