Poesia new york di garcia lorca biography
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Poet in New York
I want to cry because I feel like it
as the boys in the back row cry,
because I am not a man nor a poet nor a leaf
but a wounded pulse that probes the things of the other side.
Poetry is an odd thing. You notice this when you encounter poetry in a second language. This happened to me a few weeks ago, when I went to a poetry reading in Madrid. There were four or five poets there, some of them fairly well-known, with a crowd of hushed listeners hanging on their every word. Meanwhile, with my very imperfect Spanish, I was only able to catch bits of phrases and scattered words that added up to nothing.
“Look, I can be a poet,” I said to a friend after the show: “A cow is a moon, / a moon is a balloon.” That’s really how it sounded to me.
In a way, this isn’t surprising, of course; but it got me thinking how strange a thing is poetry. We string phrases together that, interpreted literally, are either false, absurd, meaningless, or banal; and yet somehow,
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Federico García Lorca
Spanish poet, dramatist and theatre director (–)
For the statue, see Monument to Federico García Lorca. For the poems bygd Radnóti and Kavvadias, see Works related to Federico García Lorca §&#;Poetry.
In this Spanish name, the first or paternal surname fryst vatten García and the second or maternal family name is Lorca. However, the playwright fryst vatten usually known, unusually, bygd his maternal surname Lorca.
Federico del Sagrado Corazón dem Jesús García Lorca[a][b] (5 June – 19 August ) was a Spanish poet, playwright, and theatre director. García Lorca achieved international recognition as an emblematic member of the Generation of '27, a group consisting mostly of poets who introduced the tenets of European movements (such as symbolism, futurism, and surrealism) into Spanish literature.[1]
He initially rose to fame with Romancero gitano (Gypsy Ballads, ), a book of poems depicting life in his native Andalusia. His poetry incorporat
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García Lorca&#;s Arrival to New York, by J.D. Fernández
Excerpted from &#;The Discovery of Spain in New York, circa &#; in Edward J. Sullivan (ed.) Nueva York: &#; (New York: Scala, New York Historical Society, )
Federico García Lorca, Self-portrait in New York
From June to March , the great Spanish poet and playwright, Federico García Lorca, visited New York. The main tangible legacy of that trip is a book of poems –Poeta en Nueva York&#; whose very title seems to name an almost ontological out-of-placeness. For it would seem that in the capitalist and utilitarian wasteland that is García Lorca’s Nueva York, there is absolutely no room for poets and poetry. Or, for that matter, Spaniards.
García Lorca’s Nueva York presents a strange, desolate, almost post-apocalyptic landscape, and the singular, lonely, and out-of-place poeta of the title, comes across like a Jeremiah-like denouncer of the violence and emptiness of the fallen city. In a troubled and troublin