Treasure Island

Federico García Lorca

(5 June 1898 – 19 August 1936 / Fuente Vaqueros)

Previous Month October 2014 Next Month
Mo Tu We Th Fr Sa Su
30 31 1 2 3 4 5
6 7 8 9 10 11 12
13 14 15 16 17 18 19
20 21 22 23 24 25 26
27 28 29 30 31 1 2
Modern Poem of The Day
Select a day from the calendar.
Would you like to see the poem of the day in your e-mail box every morning?
Your email address:
  Subscribe FREE
  Unsubscribe

City That Does Not Sleep


In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the
street corner
the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the
stars.

Nobody is asleep on earth. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
In a graveyard far off there is a corpse
who has moaned for three years
because of a dry countryside on his knee;
and that boy they buried this morning cried so much
it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.

Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful!
We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth
or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead
dahlias.
But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.

One day
the horses will live in the saloons
and the enraged ants
will throw themselves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the
eyes of cows.

Another day
we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead
and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats
we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue.
Careful! Be careful! Be careful!
The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm,
and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention
of the bridge,
or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe,
we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes
are waiting,
where the bear's teeth are waiting,
where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting,
and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder.

Nobody is sleeping in the sky. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is sleeping.
If someone does close his eyes,
a whip, boys, a whip!
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and bitter wounds on fire.
No one is sleeping in this world. No one, no one.
I have said it before.

No one is sleeping.
But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the
night,
open the stage trapdoors so he can see in the moonlight
the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the theaters.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

Do you like this poem?
6 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read poems about / on: dream, pain, sky, city, sleep, snow, spring, hair, moon, fire, death, butterfly, snake, rose, star, horse, kiss, dog

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (City That Does Not Sleep by Federico García Lorca )

Enter the verification code :

  • Mackenzie Yates (1/5/2014 5:45:00 PM)

    I'm throwing in the idea that maybe Federico Garcia Lorca, considering his rebellious liberal views, constructed this poem to warn a certain political party or group of followers. He's telling them to not sleep, or be unaware, because there is still danger of prosecution in their wake. Evidence for this includes the fact that he says Does Not Sleep rather than Doesnt which implies that it's an order and not just a fluffy poem. Also, lines 25-29 (One day, The horses will live in saloons...) suggests an attack plan to followers in a code that uses animals as code names. Just a thought. (Report) Reply

  • Stephen Loomes (10/1/2013 7:11:00 AM)

    The city is in Lorca's mind, where he was condemned to wander endlessly without sleep; poet's notebook in hand (Report) Reply

  • Jasbir Chatterjee (10/1/2013 6:17:00 AM)

    This poem arouses a restless storm...but then nothing ever sleeps in the universe...everything changes and evolving... (Report) Reply

  • Karen Sinclair (10/1/2012 3:13:00 AM)

    slightly confusing for me... i can only assume he is comparing humans to creatures as he sees that they are not happy comfortable and behaving in a fitting manor, it sounds much like a hieronymus Bosch painting.... Hell on earth maybe....tyvm karen (Report) Reply

Read all 6 comments »

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Our world is without any kind of wisdom, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  2. Dream packed drama, hasmukh amathalal
  3. A fool واحد احمق, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  4. Quite same, hasmukh amathalal
  5. Lack of wisdom, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  6. Wisdom, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  7. The Exquisite Thing, Mark R. Elias
  8. Leaf to Fall, Tirupathi Chandrupatla
  9. Strange Paradox, Sandra Feldman
  10. Celebrate Life, david kush

Poem of the Day

poet Walt Whitman

ARM’D year! year of the struggle!
No dainty rhymes or sentimental love verses for you, terrible year!
Not you as some pale poetling, seated at a desk, lisping cadenzas
piano;
...... Read complete »

   

Trending Poems

  1. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  3. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  4. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  5. Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
  6. Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
  7. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
  8. "Hope" is the thing with feathers, Emily Dickinson
  9. Autumn, Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
  10. Invictus, William Ernest Henley

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]