梦旅者谣

Somnambule Ballad Federico García Lorca

Green, how much I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship upon the sea and the horse in the mountain. With the shadow on her waist

绿，我多么渴望你绿

绿风，绿的枝条

船行海上

山上走马

腰缠只影

she dreams on her balcony, green flesh, hair of green, and eyes of cold silver. Green, how much I want you green. Beneath the gypsy moon, all things look at her but she cannot see them. 她在阳台上梦着

绿身，绿的头发

双眸银般寒彻

绿，我多么渴望你绿

在吉普赛月辉下

万物望向她

她却并不觉察

Green, how much I want you green. Great stars of white frost come with the fish of darkness that opens the road of dawn. the fig tree rubs the wind with the sandpaper of its branches, 绿，我多么渴望你绿

硕大的白霜星

随游鱼般的黑暗划去

开启黎明的路

无花果树风中摩挲

用它砂纸般的枝条

and the mountain, a filching cat, bristles its bitter aloes. But who will come? and from where? She lingers on her balcony, green flesh, hair of green, dreaming of the bitter sea. 山是猫贼

散发苦涩的香气

但是又有谁来？从哪里来？

她徘徊在阳台上

绿身，绿的头发

梦尝大海的苦涩

—Friend, I want to change my horse for your house, my saddle for your mirror, my knife for your blanket, Friend, I come bleeding, from the passes of Cabra. —If I could, young man, this pact would be sealed. But I am no more I, nor is my house now my house. —Friend, I want to die decently in my bed, Of iron, if it be possible, with sheets of fine holland. Do you not see the wound I have from my breast to my throat? —Your white shirt bears three hundred dark roses. Your pungent blood oozes around your sash. But I am no more I, nor is my house now my house. —Let me climb at least up to the high balustrade: let me come! Let me come! up to the green balustrades. Balustrades of the moon where the water resounds.

Now the two friends go up towards the high balustrades. Leaving a trail of blood, leaving a trail of tears, Small lanterns of tin were trembling on the roofs. A thousand crystal tambourines were piercing the dawn.

Green, how much I want you green, green wind, green branches. The two friends went up. The long wind was leaving in the mouth a strange taste of gall, mint and sweet-basil. Friend! Where is she, tell me, where is your bitter girl? How often she waited for you! How often did she wait for you, cool face, black hair, on this green balcony!

Over the face of the cistern the gypsy girl swayed. Green flesh, hair of green, with eyes of cold silver. An icicle of the moon suspends her above the water. The night became as intimate as a little square. Drunken civil guards were knocking at the door. Green, how much I want you green, Green wind. Green branches. The ship upon the sea. And the horse on the mountain.

Stephen Spender and J. L. Gili

Ballad of the Sleepwalker

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 "Guardias Civiles" were pounding on the door. Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea. And the horse on the mountain.