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Poetry
by Chris Zachariou
United Kingdom


Τάκης Ζαχαρίου

Ποιήματα

Γιαλούσα, Κύπρος

Writer's pictureChris Zachariou

Notes From Andalusia | A Tribute to Federico Garcia Lorca


In Alfacar under the melancholy shade of a cypress tree, the guns are resting.

The poet is dead.

Breathless in an empty coffin he laments Ignacio.

At five in the afternoon

two twisted ravens daughters of a lurid moon took his soul away.

The crowds mourn the hero but who will mourn the bard?


And will anyone give his poems shelter?

Cordoba will give his poems shelter

echo the Andalusian valleys.

The moon tires of Granada, its crowds, their laments and tears and now she sails for Cordoba.

She climbs to the sky devouring

all the weeping voices in her darkness.

From his empty grave, the bard begins to recite his poem:


“Once so long ago, when lust was the same as love,

a Gypsy woman took the devil for her lover.

To them, a girl was born;

by fifteen, her wild black curls

her playful lips and fledgling breasts

were driving men insane


When I saw the unsullied child

I was struck by madness.

Seven nuns clasped their shrivelled hands

and twelve obedient goblins found me guilty.

But I was inflamed by her purity

and the lust for sin she promised in her eyes.

Now I'm back in Cordoba

looking in her narrow-cobbled streets

for the girl with the wild black curls.

Gypsy rhythms flamenco on the river

and there are five brothels

and a church on every corner.

Priests and whores and those asunder

all walking hand in hand

pay their dues to God and mammon


don Quijote:

'My good lady Dulcinea leaning on the lamp post,

have you seen my girl

with the wild black curls?

She has slender limbs

and shy young breasts

and lips made for sinning.'

The whore:

'My esteemed hidalgo don Quijote,

for a doubloon, I can be that shy young girl

and for two, I can even be her younger sister.'


and she grins me a toothless smile.

I take her to a cheap hotel room.

We heave, we pant and scream all night and day

and the girl with the wild black curls, at last, is mine.

But the time for a doubloon is almost up.

Her mask comes off and the curls fall off.

With a toothless grin, she takes the money

and then walks into the night looking for a lamp post.

In the room next door, twice as cheap

at twice the cost, the padre weeps.

The padre:

'Forgive me, Lord, since she was a child

I watched her from the pulpit

and I sinned in thought and when alone I sinned and sinned in deed.'

Aroused beyond all measure he brings the scourge down

until drained of his pious lust

the padre collapses on his knees.

Prostrated and spent on the faded marble floor with fresh and old stains he begs the Lord's forgiveness.”


The end of the poem,

the curtain comes down.

Thunderous applause.


The audience in an onanistic frenzy shouts for more.

But the guns under the melancholy shade of the cypress tree are on the move again; they kill the Don;

they kill the girl;

they kill the padre; they kill the applauding audience.

Then they kill each other

and everyone in the town is dead.

All drowned in a putrid heap

of torn words and broken hopes.

The bard in his empty grave

with a Delphic smile

and a flourish of his pen

scribbles down the final line:


THE END


Read A Short Biography of Federico García Lorca Spain's greatest poet and playwright


A few words about the poem…


Notes from Andalusia – A Tribute to Federico Garcia Lorca

 

A poem that explores the themes of death, rebellion, and social boundaries. It captures the essence of the human experience and its relationship to power structures and societal norms. This poetic tribute to Federico Garcia Lorca speaks of how different groups within society hold sway and exert control over those deemed to be outside of their sphere of influence.

 

It draws the reader in with vivid and striking imagery, conjuring up a sense of place that is both haunting and beautiful. By exploring the complex relationships between different groups in society, the poem invites readers to reflect on their own experiences of power, grief, and loss. It challenges us to question the boundaries that we set for ourselves and how we are shaped by the forces around us.

 

“Notes from Andalusia” is a meditation on what it means to be human in a world that is shaped by forces beyond our control. Its apocalyptic ending questions the value of friction when even the victors of conflict may ultimately face a broken society.


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