Federico García Lorca: “Little Tree”

Little Tree

 

Translated by Isobel Wells (University of St Andrews)

 

Little tree, little tree,

Dry and green.

 

The girl is collecting olives,

young and fair of face.

The wind, seducer of towers,

takes her by the waist.

Four men on horseback pass by

atop Andalusian mares,

draped in blue and green dress,

capes long and dark of wear.

“Come to Cordoba, fair maiden.”

But the young girl does not listen.

Three young matadors pass by,

their waists so slight and slender,

adorned in the colour orange,

carrying swords of ancient silver.

“Come to Seville, fair maiden.”

But the young girl does not listen.

As the sky turns violet

in the dimly lit afternoon,

a young man passes by, carrying

roses and myrtles by the light of the moon

“Come to Granada, fair maiden.”

But the young girl does not listen.

The girl continues collecting olives,

young and fair of face,

as the grey arm of the wind

seizes her by the waist.

 

Little tree, little tree,

dry and green.