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LA GUITARRA (Adapted by Steve Gillette from Poem by Federico Garcia Lorca) Empieza el llanto de la guitarra Begins the crying of the guitar Se rompen las copas de la madrugada It rends the chords of the sunrise Empieza el llanto de la guitarra When the crying of the guitar begins Es inutil callarla, es imposible callarla. It is useless to hush it, it is impossible to hush it up. Llora monotona como llora el agua, It cries monotonously like the crying of water, Como llora el viento sobre la nevada. The way wind weeps over the snow. Es imposible callarla, It is impossible to silence it, Llora por cosas, lejanas. It cries for distant things. Arena del sur calliente The hot sand of the south Que pide camelias blancas Thirsty for the white camelias (a mataphor for peace) Llora flecha sin blanco It decries the arrow shot wide of the target (the destructiveness of war) La tarde sin manana. The darkening of the hour without the promise of morning. Y el primer pajaro muerto And the first dead bird Sobre la rama. guitarra Fallen from the branch. Oh, guitar, Corazon malherido por cinco espadas. Your heart cruelly wounded by five sharp swords. (the fingers of the guitarist) (Recitation) When the guitar begins to cry, struggling like sunrise into dawn. It's useless to try to force the silence. Impossible not to go on Crying like the water. The way the wind weeps over the fallen snow. Soft tones of sadness, over distant things. Copyright 1990, Foreshadow Music, BMI Used by permission @Spanish filename[ LA_GUITR SG |
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