Federico
𓂃 my attempt at translating again, or a rework of /Lorca.


About An archive for (mostly) modern and classical Spanish poetry, translated over to English by hand! By the creator of /Lorca. I reached the character limit on there a while ago, but haven't stopped translating since, and I figured archiving what I've been doing would be nice. I am not a professional translator, this is merely for fun and due to my interest in Literature and Linguistics.

If you feel as if though a poem hasn't been appropriately translated or find any flaw within the archive, please contact me. If you have any suggestions or comments (or just simply wish to talk to me about Literature, Linguistics or related fields) feel free to contact me as well, either through my Atabook or my Discord. Or if you prefer e-mail, I can be found here.

Extras In the interest of accesibility, this site is viewable on all devices and viewable in either dark or light mode. :) Please let me know if there is anything I can improve.

This website is a WIP! Thank you for visiting, and please be patient.

Original archive/Sister website | Letter archive (WIP)

General warning I translate a lot of more Surrealist poets, which is particularly hard and also oftentimes requires the reader to actually know previous context. I cannot physically provide you with a list of metaphors, style characteristics and meanings for every author's repertoir, but you can message me about it. I may not know everything about a particular poem/author, but I most likely have more professional sources than someone inexperienced. :)

Navigation Translations to English will be found beneath the original poem in Spanish. Anything I consider worth clarifying will be marked with a footnote in any given verse¹ and noted at the end of the translation. ¹ Like this!
Poem count: 1 Frequently Asked Questions


Federico García Lorca 1910 (Intermedio)
Mario Benedetti Conjugaciones: 1 — Álbum | Conjugaciones: 2 — Claves


1910 (Intermedio)

Federico García Lorca.

Aquellos ojos míos de mil novecientos diez
no vieron enterrar a los muertos,
ni la feria de ceniza del que llora por la madrugada,
ni el corazón que tiembla arrinconado como un caballito de mar.

Aquellos ojos míos de mil novecientos diez
vieron la blanca pared donde orinaban las niñas,
el hocico del toro, la seta venenosa
y una luna incomprensible que iluminaba por los rincones
los pedazos de limón seco bajo el negro duro de las botellas.

Aquellos ojos míos en el cuello de la jaca,
en el seno traspasado de Santa Rosa dormida,
en los tejados del amor, con gemidos y frescas manos,
en un jardín donde los gatos se comían a las ranas.

Desván donde el polvo viejo congrega estatuas y musgos,
cajas que guardan silencio de cangrejos devorados
en el sitio donde el sueño tropezaba con su realidad.
Allí mis pequeños ojos.

No preguntarme nada. He visto que las cosas
cuando buscan su curso encuentran su vacío.
Hay un dolor de huecos por el aire sin gente
y en mis ojos criaturas vestidas ¡sin desnudo!

1910 (Intermediate)

Those eyes of mine from ninety-ten
did not see the dead being buried,
nor the fair of ash from he who cries in the morning,
neither the heart that trembles, cornered like a seahorse.

Those eyes of mine from ninety-ten
saw the white wall wherein the girls urinated,
the bull's snout, the poisonous mushroom
and an incomprehensible moon that illuminated around the corners
the pieces of dry lemon from underneath the hard black of the bottles.

Those eyes of mine on the pony's neck,
on the tresspassed breasts of Saint Rose, asleep
on the roofs of love, with moans and fresh hands,
in a garden where the cats would eat the frogs.

Attic wherein the old dust congregates statues and moss,
boxes that hold the silence of devoured crabs
In the place wherein the dream tripped over its reality.
There, my small eyes.

Do not ask me anything. I have found that when things
search for their course, they find their emptiness.
There is a hollow pain in the uninhabited air¹
and in my eyes, dressed creatures, with no nudity!


¹ Literally "air without people".


FAQ

Q: Are you /Lorca's owner?
A: Yes! This is a continuation of it.

Q: Why did you make this?
A: I really enjoyed working on /Lorca back then, and I wanted it back. I'm busier now, but I'll still do my best to update this. Also, I have dozens of unarchived poems I've translated since /Lorca's tragic end, and a new array of literary and interpretative knowledge!

Q: I know you from somewhere else, may I reach out?
A: Yes! Reach out, but please don't tell people who I am. It's not that I mean to hide myself, but I'm taking this archive as a more impersonal and relaxed form of work this time around.

Q: Are you Spanish? Do you live in Spain? Is Spanish your first language?
A: Yes, yes, and yes! I'm born and raised in Northern Spain. I'm very passionate about my country in general.

Q: How come you feel qualified to translate these poems?
A: I've translated as a hobby for a good chunk of my life + I have an official C2 in English. Also, I just like Literature and Linguistics. That's all a translator really has to have.

Q: Are these translations done by hand?
A: Yes. Obviously, I'm not a machine, so sometimes I will aid myself via translators, dictionaries or even the occassional thesaurus. But I (mostly) translate everything by real hand—by that I mean pen and paper—so if you ever doubt me, ask me and I'll gladly show you my translation drafts in my truly horrible, truly human handwriting!

Q: Why don't you have sources for the poems linked?
A: It's a tedious process, and I'm a single person working on this with not much free time. If you wish to know where a poem came from, please search it up or ask me privately. I'm more than happy to provide answers!

Q: I have more questions.
A: Message meeeee Message meeee oooh you want to message me your questions so baddddd. No, but actually. Do message me. I can be found in many forms. Send me one of those pigeons, won't you? I really like solving people's queries.

Edit

Pub: 24 Mar 2024 23:51 UTC

Edit: 08 Dec 2025 21:50 UTC

Views: 63