Song of the Barren Orange Tree

by

Frederico Garcia Lorca

 

Woodchopper,

cut away my shadow.

Let me escape the pain of seeing

myself with no fruit.

 

Why was I born between mirrors?

Day rings me round,

and night is mimicking me,

in all of the stars.

 

I long to live without seeing myself,

I imigine that ants

and flying thistledown

are my leaves, my birds.

 

Woodchooper,

chop away my shadow.

Let me escape the pain of seeing

myself with no fruit.