Treasure Island

Federico García Lorca

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

Las Seis Cuerdas


La guitarra,
hace llorar a los sueños.
El sollozo de las almas
perdidas,
se escapa por su boca
redonda.
Y como la tarántula
teje una gran estrella
para cazar suspiros,
que flotan en su negro
aljibe de madera.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

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Comments about this poem (Las Seis Cuerdas by Federico García Lorca )

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  • Bob Reed (8/1/2014 2:05:00 AM)

    The guitar,
    Makes you cry for your dreams.
    The sobs of lost souls,
    escapes from your round mouth.

    And like the trantula
    you weave a huge star-like net
    to catch sighs
    that float from your black
    wooden trap. (Report) Reply

  • Kyrston P. (3/31/2005 5:57:00 PM)

    Excellent poem...a song was made out of it. SATB. Check it out, its beautiful! (Report) Reply

Read all 4 comments »

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