La aurora or Dawn

The New York dawn has
four columns of mud
and a hurricane of black doves
that paddle in putrescent waters.

The New York dawn grieves
along the immense stairways,
seeking amidst the groins
spikenards of fine-drawn anguish.

The dawn comes and no one receives it in his mouth,
for there no morn or hope is possible.
Occasionally, coins in furious swarms
perforate and devour abandoned children.

The first to come out understand in their bones
that there will be no paradise nor amours stripped of leaves:
they know they are going to the mud of figures and laws,
to artless games, to fruitless sweat.

The light is buried under chains and noises
in impudent challenge of rootless science.
Through the suburbs sleepless people stagger,
as though just delivered from a shipwreck of blood.

Frederico García Lorca, translated by Stephen Spender and J. L. Gili


WHAAAT. Reeling from the first stanza. This is part of our prompt for this week about "sensuous encounters with the new."

Here's the original Spanish:

La aurora de Nueva York tiene
cuatro columnos de cieno
y un huracan de palomas negras
que chapotean en aguas podridas.

La aurora de Nueva York gime
por las inmensas escaleras
buscando entre las aristas
nardos de angustia dibujada.

La aurora llega y nadie la recibe en su boca
porque alli, no hay manana ni esperanza posible.

A veces, las monedas en enjambres furiosas
taladran y devoran ninos abandonados.

Los primeros que salen comprendan con sus huesos
que no habra paraiso o amores deshojados;
saben que van al cieno de numeros y leyes,
a los juegos sin arte, a los sudores sin frutos.

La luz es sepultada por cadenas y ruidos
en impudico reto de cienca sin raices.
Por los barrios hay gente que vacilan insomnes
Como recien salidas de un naufrago de sangre.