The Song Of The Barren Orange Tree

Woodcutter.
Cut my shadow from me.
Free me from the torment
of being without fruit.

Why was I born among mirrors?
Day goes round and round me.
The night copies me
in all its stars.

I want to live without my reflection.
And then let me dream
that ants and thistledown
are my leaves and my parrots.

by Federico García Lorca

Comments (2)

Beautiful and I am thankful that Raymond Antrobus posted his translation of the poem!
That is a horrible translation of a great poem. Here's how I translated it from Spanish. Woodcutter Chop away my shadow. Let me escape the pain of seeing Myself with no fruit. Why was I born between mirrors? Day goes round and round me The night mimics me in all of the stars I long to live without seeing myself. I'll imagine ants and flying thistledown are my leaves, my birds. Woodcutter Chop away my shadow. Let me escape the pain of seeing Myself with no fruit.