Lorca: Ghazal of the Dead Boy (From Spanish)
Ghazal of the Dead Boy By Federico García Lorca Translated by A.Z. Foreman Every afternoon in Granada, Every afternoon: a boy dead. Every af...
Ghazal of the Dead Boy By Federico García Lorca Translated by A.Z. Foreman Every afternoon in Granada, Every afternoon: a boy dead. Every af...
Dark Night of the Soul By St. John of the Cross Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite the original Spanish Click to hear me re...
To a Saxon Poet By Jorge Luis Borges Translated by A.Z. Foreman This translation dedicated to Christina Von Nolcken, who taught me Old...
Ghazal of the Terrible Presence By Federico García Lorca Translated by A.Z. Foreman I would have the water reft from its bed, I would have t...
Love Poem XVI By Pablo Neruda Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite the Spanish You in my twilight sky are like a cloud, Your ...
Rain By Jorge Luis Borges Translated by A.Z. Foreman The afternoon has brightened up at last For rain is falling, sudden and minute. Falling...
Tropical Stonecutting By Manuel del Cabral Translated by A.Z. Foreman Black men swing down their picks on the white stones. Within their pic...
Everness By Jorge Luis Borges Translated by A.Z. Foreman One thing does not exist: Oblivion. God saves the metal and the dross, his key Ciph...
"Wayfarer, the only way..." By Antonio Machado Translated by A.Z Foreman Wayfarer, the only way Is your footprints and no other. W...
Juan de Mairena: A Childhood Memory 1 By Antonio Machado Translated by A.Z. Foreman Click to hear me recite the original Spanish Till he hea...
A Rose and Milton By Jorge Luis Borges Translated by A.Z. Foreman Amid the generations of the rose That in the deep of ages lie long gone I ...
Rhyme II By Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer Translated by A.Z. Foreman A headlong flying arrow Fired by a random hand Not knowing where its trembling...
Rhyme 21 By Gustavo Adolfo Becquer Translated by A.Z. Foreman "What's poetry?" You ask me, as you rivet Into my pupil your pup...
The Moon Comes Forth By Federico García Lorca Translated by A.Z. Foreman When the moon is out The bells die away And impenetrable Paths come...