Garcia Lorca’s Antoñito el Camborio — part I

One down side to having to flee off to work at 3 in the afternoon each day is when you're on a roll, say with one's blog, it hurts having to stop in mid-sentence. Having said that, I went back to the translations I was working on when I abruptly broke off yesterday and decided to try it all again.

These two poems come from Federico Garcia Lorca's Romancero gitano, Gypsy Ballads, which are full of little surprises. I pulled down several editions of his collected work from the shelf with the idea of working on one of his sonnets of dark love; however, this compact tragedy caught my eye instead.

It is from his ballads, the poem Prendimiento de Antoñito el Camborio and Muerte De Antoñito El Camborio. The character here, Antoñito el Camborio, is sometimes translated as: "Little Tony Camborio" (Humphries) and as: "Antoñito Camborio" (Harvard)1. Of the name, Loughran says: Antoñito is the diminutive form of Antonio (Anthony) that here denotes familiarity and affection on the part of the speaker … Caborios, Torres, Heredia and Camborio are all well known gypsy surnames. Caborios is particularly resonant of legendary lineage and ancestry. (page 41)

Look here, attend; these two poems hints at Lorca's own fate at the hands of the Spanish Civil Gaurd years later.


Yesterday as I drove over to work I stopped by my parents' house to see how everything was with them. In their backyard I found this tree, a blood red Japanese maple, which seemed somehow fitting to these poems. It is autumn, when everything is turning away from the sun. That short, cold kiss to "goodnight" the world gives. Though Garcia Lorca was shot and buried in an olive grove, I can imagine his ghost finding a little rest under such a dramatic tree as this. Poor Garcia Lorca, poor, poor ghost.

Prendimiento de
Antoñito el Camborio

Federico Garcia Lorca

The Arrest of Antonio Camborio
on the Road to Seville

Translation by ZJC

Antonio Torres Heredia,
hijo y nieto de Camborios,
con una vara de mimbre
va a Sevilla aver los toros.
Moreno de verde Luna,
anda despacio y garboso.
Sus empavonados bucles
le brillan entre los ojos.
A la mitad del camino
cortó limones redondos
y los fue tirando al agua
hasta que la puso de oro.
Y a la mitad del camino,
bajo las ramas de un olmo,
guardia civil caminera
lo llevó codo con codo.

El día se va despacio,
la tarde colgada a un hombro…
Antonio Torres Heredia,
hijo y nieto de Camborios
viene sin vara de mimbre
entre los cinco tricornios.
Antonio ¿quién eres tú?
Si te llamaras Camborio,
Hubieras hecho una fuente
De sangre con cinco chorros…
A las nuevo de la noche
Lo llevan al calabozo,
mientras los guardias civiles
beben limonadas todos.
Y a las nueve de la noche
le cierran el calabozo,
mientras el cielo reluce
como la grupa de un potro.

Antonio Torres Heredia,
son and grandson of Camborios,
a willow wand in his hand,
went to Seville to see the bulls.
Dark-skinned as the green moon,
slowly he strolls but with grace,
his blue-polished tresses
shinning between his eyes.
He cuts some round lemons
and in the middle of the road
throws them in the water
until it turns to gold.
And in the middle of the road,
beneath the branches of elm,
the Civil Guard goose step by,
and bear him off, arm in arm.

Slowly the day goes by,
the evening hangs upon one shoulder
of a matador’s cape, sweeping
over the sea and the small rivers.
The olive trees are awaiting
the night of Capricorn,
and over the leaden mountains
a sharp breeze leaps like a stallion.
Antonio Torres Heredia,
son and grandson of Camborios,
a willow wand lost from his hand,
between five tri-corner hats.

Antonio, what sort of man are you?
If you call yourself Camborio’s boy,
you should have made out of them
five fountains spurting their own blood.
You are not a real Camborio,
you are no one’s son.
There are no more gypsies left,
no one walks the mountain alone!
Their old knives lay rusting,
Shivering, under dirt and rock.

At nine o’clock that night
they brought him to the jail,
while the Civil Guards
drank lemonade.
At nine o’clock that night
they shut him up in jail
while they night sky shone
like a rump of a new foal


  1. For reference, I am working from the following texts:

    *Lament for the death of a bullfighter, and other poems. Tr. by A. L. Lloyd. London, Heinemann (1953);
    *The gypsy ballads; translated by Rolfe Humphries, with 3 historical ballads. Bloomington, Indiana University Press (1953);
    *Gypsy ballads/ Romancero gitano. translated with an introduction and commentary by Robert G. Havard. Warminster, England: Aris & Phillips (1990);
    *Gypsy ballads, songs/ Romancero gitano, canciones. translated and edited by David K. Loughran. Hanover, NH: Ediciones del Norte (1994) [back]

2 Responses to “Garcia Lorca’s Antoñito el Camborio — part I”

  1. Ervie P ena Says:

    Please email me your translation of Garcia Lorca’s entire poem called, “Alma Ausente”, if you it. Thank you very much. I have enjoyed your translations of all the poems, especially, those of Garcia Lorca, my all time favorite Spanish poet.
    Ervie Peña.

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