This book collects together previously uncollected poetry and prose from Frederico Garcia Lorca, beautifully translated by Christopher Maurer. The poetry is simply written, the prose lyrical. Both are full of a keenly felt sense for the poets surroundings, a love of nature and a very awake imagination. All the writing centres on the city of Granada, where Lorca was born and where he would be murdered. Some quotes:
'In the afternoon, when the admirable bee-eaters feel the wind coming and break into song, and the cicada is in a frenzy, rubbing together its two little plates of gold, I sit down near the living depths of the pool.' from Meditations and Allegories of the Water.
'The Sierra Nevada lends a background of boulders or of snow or of green dream to the songs that cannot fly' from How a City Sings from November to November.
It's a beautiful collection, one that lingers in the mind long after reading it.
I also recently read The Emperor's Babe a novel in verse, which I reviewed here on Pink Gun.