November 11, 2009

I Was Hot Stuff

In high school I was taking Advance Placement Spanish Literature and I though I was pretty darn good. In grade school I scored really high in Spanish and because of that skipped 2 whole years and started in Honors Spanish 2 as a freshman. For those following my blog before my teacher for AP Spanish Literature was a Cuban lady. SHE WAS AWESOME! She also happened to be the teacher that used to chase me down the high school hall trying to 'break me down' and hug me. She was a big hugger.

Because of her I am able to be close to someone without freaking out or hyperventilating. I am now a cuddle bug. Thanks Mrs Alonso. She also called dyfs on my mom when she hugged me one time and I was so bruised the hug brought me to tears. I felt betrayed by her because this resulted in more trouble between my mom and I but honestly it was the RIGHT THING TO DO. DYFS finally decided to remove me from my moms (after 10 years of documenting heavy abuse) but it was only 4 months before I turn 18 and I lied in order to protect my brothers. I no longer have hard feelings for her and I STILL keep in contact with her even after 6 years of graduating from high school.

Anyway recently she survived her fight with pancreatic cancer. Although she now lives in the southern part of my state I miss her and wish she was right next door to me. I was scared that she would pass away because of what she has done fore me and how I feel for her. Anyway recently I realized I am loosing my Spanish BIG TIME. So I started reviewing all my books and writings and wanted to share with you this poem. I thought I was so hot and good and I got a D on the paper. Now, everyone else got an F because they analyzed it wrong. See if you could get it and NO the green is not talking about environmental or ecological, we all assumed that and failed miserably


Federico García Lorca

Verde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar
y el caballo en la montaña.
Con la sombra en la cintura
ella sueña en su baranda,
verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fría plata.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Bajo la luna gitana,
las cosas le están mirando
y ella no puede mirarlas.


Verde que te quiero verde.
Grandes estrellas de escarcha,
vienen con el pez de sombra
que abre el camino del alba.
La higuera frota su viento
con la lija de sus ramas,
y el monte, gato garduño,
eriza sus pitas agrias.
¿Pero quién vendrá? ¿Y por dónde...?
Ella sigue en su baranda,
verde carne, pelo verde,
soñando en la mar amarga.


Compadre, quiero cambiar
mi caballo por su casa,
mi montura por su espejo,
mi cuchillo por su manta.
Compadre, vengo sangrando,
desde los montes de Cabra.
Si yo pudiera, mocito,
ese trato se cerraba.
Pero yo ya no soy yo,
ni mi casa es ya mi casa.
Compadre, quiero morir
decentemente en mi cama.
De acero, si puede ser,
con las sábanas de holanda.
¿No ves la herida que tengo
desde el pecho a la garganta?
Trescientas rosas morenas
lleva tu pechera blanca.
Tu sangre rezuma y huele
alrededor de tu faja.
Pero yo ya no soy yo,
ni mi casa es ya mi casa.
Dejadme subir al menos
hasta las altas barandas,
dejadme subir, dejadme,
hasta las verdes barandas.
Barandales de la luna
por donde retumba el agua.


Ya suben los dos compadres
hacia las altas barandas.
Dejando un rastro de sangre.
Dejando un rastro de lágrimas.
Temblaban en los tejados
farolillos de hojalata.
Mil panderos de cristal,
herían la madrugada.


Verde que te quiero verde,
verde viento, verdes ramas.
Los dos compadres subieron.
El largo viento, dejaba
en la boca un raro gusto
de hiel, de menta y de albahaca.
¡Compadre! ¿Dónde está, dime?
¿Dónde está mi niña amarga?
¡Cuántas veces te esperó!
¡Cuántas veces te esperara,
cara fresca, negro pelo,
en esta verde baranda!


Sobre el rostro del aljibe
se mecía la gitana.
Verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fría plata.
Un carámbano de luna
la sostiene sobre el agua.
La noche su puso íntima
como una pequeña plaza.
Guardias civiles borrachos,
en la puerta golpeaban.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar.
Y el caballo en la montaña.

Here is the English translation as done by William Logan

Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With the shade around her waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon,
all things are watching her
and she cannot see them.

Green, how I want you green.
Big hoarfrost stars
come with the fish of shadow
that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs its wind
with the sandpaper of its branches,
and the forest, cunning cat,
bristles its brittle fibers.
But who will come? And from where?
She is still on her balcony
green flesh, her hair green,
dreaming in the bitter sea.

--My friend, I want to trade
my horse for her house,
my saddle for her mirror,
my knife for her blanket.
My friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabra.
--If it were possible, my boy,
I'd help you fix that trade.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--My friend, I want to die
decently in my bed.
Of iron, if that's possible,
with blankets of fine chambray.
Don't you see the wound I have
from my chest up to my throat?
--Your white shirt has grown
thirsy dark brown roses.
Your blood oozes and flees a
round the corners of your sash.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--Let me climb up, at least,
up to the high balconies;
Let me climb up! Let me,
up to the green balconies.
Railings of the moon
through which the water rumbles.

Now the two friends climb up,
up to the high balconies.
Leaving a trail of blood.
Leaving a trail of teardrops.
Tin bell vines
were trembling on the roofs.
A thousand crystal tambourines
struck at the dawn light.

Green, how I want you green,
green wind, green branches.
The two friends climbed up.
The stiff wind left
in their mouths, a strange taste
of bile, of mint, and of basil
My friend, where is she--tell me--
where is your bitter girl?
How many times she waited for you!
How many times would she wait for you,
cool face, black hair,
on this green balcony!
Over the mouth of the cistern
the gypsy girl was swinging,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
An icicle of moon
holds her up above the water.
The night became intimate
like a little plaza.
Drunken [civil guards]
were pounding on the door.
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
nd the horse on the mountain.

Even though it says ROMANCE it does not mean that it deals with romance (although this particular poem it does) but rather a genre of poetry which would translate to ballad.

So for those who can read Spanish, what do you think it is referring to?
She insisted we rewrite the analysis and I now know what he meant but I want to have a discussion with you guys. I MISS IT!

ok. so (from memory) Lorca has a thing against the civil guard (the cops of that time) as he felt the were unjust and a mockery of justice. That is why he usually depicts them as drunkards and thugs. Lorca loves the oppressed and in his works he usually elevates them. In this case the gypsy is fatally wounded but he wants to trade his transient life for a stable one. NeverEver got most of it right, mashaallah. When the gypsy says "desde los montes de Cabra." Cabra during this time was where the gypsies would gather and were nefarious activities would take place. So if you were in the vicinity you were probably up to no good.

The gypsy woman drowned in the well (accidentally as she was waiting for her lover), and thats why she is green. eww. However, this guy already knows that she is dead but he still loves her regardless. Kinda creepy and cute at the same time. Like I love you despite the fact you are dead and we can never be with each other kind a thing. He has been stabbed and is dying for whatever reason. One of the characteristics of the Spanish Romancero (ballad) is that you get dropped smack in the middle of the action. There is no build up or anything leading up to it, you just get dumped in the middle and you have to figure it out. This poem is actually very beautiful with all its references to taste and touch. It involves all the senses. whatcha think?


.::Tuttie::. said...

there are two characters speaking in this poem and one that is alluded to.

There is the gypsy, the father of the girl and the girl (although she is only alluded to).

NeverEver said...

Hmm I will say in the beginning the verde symbolizes life, the life of the woman.

Then stuff goes down and she kills herself. I can't decide if she drowns in the cistern, or if she hangs herself (the "swinging" thing)

Also I would translate this passage:
"My friend, I want to trade
my horse for her house,
my saddle for her mirror,
my knife for her blanket." differently from the spanish.
probably more like:
"my horse for your house,
my saddle for your mirror,
but maybe my spanish is bad.

It makes sense though because the gypsy dude wants to settle down into this home. He wants a life with his girl and would trade the man his things that signify him as a wanderer.

Buuuut he is wounded, she thinks he is dead, she kills herself Juliet style.

She had waited so long and he comes back too late.

I also think the usage of verde shifts when she dies. It represents decay and death "green flesh, green hair, cold eyes, etc."
and the gypsy man kind of willingly falls into death at the hands of the drunken guards to follow her.

in my opinion :0)

What do you think Tuttie?

Anonymous said...

of all the names in the world why sushi? SUSHI? can't i have a more exotic name? im not a big fan of raw fish.

Jaz said...

Yay! I can comment :D

I speak Spanish at an intermediate level, far from fluent but I could translate the poem.

But I'm not sure what green alludes to. Maybe, and this probably makes me sound really morbid, but it is it decay of her body, water? Did she kill herself? It's a creepy poem, in a good way.

"Compadre, quiero cambiar
mi caballo por su casa,
mi montura por su espejo,
mi cuchillo por su manta."

Is translated as,

"My friend, I want to trade
My horse for her house
My saddle for her mirror
My knife for her blanket."

Could it also be I want to trade my horse for YOUR house rather than HER house? If the young man was speaking to the father in the "usted" form.

I'm probably wrong it would just make more sense to me.

Nice post, different!

I'll come back to this later, after reading it a bit more.

.::Tuttie::. said...

@NeverEver YOU ARE SOO CLOSE! and yeah that guys translation was decent but it could be better. Yours hit the mark in that translation. I think you are right by a lot. I will post the answer later today inshaALlah.

.::Tuttie::. said...

@ and all that JAZ

you are close my dear. I think the guy mistranslated it I think it had more to do with exchanging things with HIM rather than HER.

Jaz said...

Is the young man her lover? Was it set in the civil war? Was she blind?

.::Tuttie::. said...

@ and all that Jaz!! **Jaz hands**
couldn't help myself :(

Is the young man her lover?
kinda sorta, maybe

was it set in the civil war?

was she blind?

AlabasterMuslim said...

Well, with out reading anything you wrote in the comments, i would have thought that is was some kind of sailor who had gone out to sea and then was wounded, while a woman waited for him on land.

i know i was probably totally off.

AlabasterMuslim said...

Or i would have thought that she was one of those um figurines that was put on the front of a ship (green skin green hair)...but the poem mentions trees and a horse...i really suck at this lol

NeverEver said...

Aww yay!

There are so many ways to interpret these things... lol

After I did this I got really curious and went to look it up, and some people even interpreted it as a commentary on supressed homosexuality in Lorca's life. Crazy people, lol

.::Tuttie::. said...

@NeverEver we found out later in class that he was "supposedly" gay but I refuse to believe it since I wasn't there and didn't witness him say it. I think they got that from Lorca associating with the poor and the oppressed. go figure