Detrás de cada espejo
hay una estrella muerta
y un arco iris niño
que duerme.
Detrás de cada espejo
hay una calma eterna
y un nido de silencios
que no han volado.
El espejo es la momia
del manantial, se cierra,
como concha de luz,
por la noche.
El espejo
es la madre-rocío,
el libro que diseca
los crepúsculos, el eco hecho carne.
Federico García Lorca
Capriccio
Behind each mirror
there is a dead star
and a baby rainbow
sleeping.
Behind each mirror
there is an eternal calm
and a nest of silences
that have not flown.
The mirror is the wellspring
become mummy, shuts
like a shell of light
at night.
The mirror
is the mother-dew
the book of desiccated
twilights, echo become flesh.
Based on translation by Jerome Rothenberg
(Picture: Passage of the mirrors, Maria Helena Vieira da Silva)
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