Ballad of the Moon

The moon came in to the forge
in her bustle of flowering nard.

The little boy stares at her, stares.
Stares hard!

In the shaken air
the moon moves her amrs,
and shows nude and pure,
her breasts of hard tin.

with a worry voice,
child said:
"Moon, moon, moon, run!
If the gypsies arrives,
they will make "necklaces and rings"
from your white heart.

"Let me dance, my little one.
When the gypsies come,
they will find you on the anvil
with your lively eyes closed tight.
she replied;

"Moon, moon, moon, run!
"I can hear their horses coming"

Let it be, my little one,
don't step on my starched whiteness,
you are rouining it!!!

Drumming on the plain,
closer comes the the horsemen,

The boy is in the forge;
his eyes are closed.

Through the olive grove
there! they come "the gypsies of dream and bronze"
with heads held high,
their eyelashes falls half asleep.

Oh, how wram and phonetic the night owl calls,
calls from its tree!

The moon is climbing through the sky
with the child on his hands.

They are crying in the forge,
Gypsies are crying and shouting.

The air, the air is veiwing all over, views all.
The air is at the viewing.

Fedrico Garcia Lorca
Translated by: J.D.
1/6/08