Translated by Dinah Livingstone
Cockerels' picks are digging for the dawn when Soledad Montoya comes down the dark mountain.
Brass flesh smelling of horse and darkness.
Her breasts are smoky anvils wailing songs in rounds.
Soledad, who are you seeking at this hour alone?
Whoever I am seeking, tell me, is it your concern?
I am seeking what I'm seeking my joy and my own person.
Soledad of my sorrows, a bolting horse reaches the sea and the waves cover him.
Never mind the sea.
The black sorrow gushes from the land of olives under leaves rustling.
Soledad, your sorrow!
What ferocious sorrow!
You weep tears of lemon bitter with the taste of waiting.
My sorrow is great! I run through my house like a fury, my two plaits trail the floor from kitchen to bedroom.
What sorrow! It has blackened my flesh, jet black is my clothing.
Oh, my linen dresses, my thighs of red poppy!
Soledad, wash your body with skylark water and leave your heart in peace, Soledad Montoya.
The river sings below: flouncing leaves and sky.
The new light takes its crown of pumpkin flowers.
Oh, sorrow of the gypsies, pure and lonely, sorrow of hidden waters and daybreak far away.
The poem was originally published in Lorca's Romancero Gitano (Gypsy Ballads) in 1928. The ballads sing the culture and hardships of the Gypsies of the poet's native Andalucia, who live on the margins of society and are constantly persecuted by the authorities. Lorca was killed by fascist assassins in 1936 at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War. See Ian Gibson, The Assassination of Federico García Lorca (Penguin, London 1979).