Myth of Arrival

Garcia Lorca’s Antoñito el Camborio — part II

"A dead man in Spain is more alive as a dead man than any place else in the world."
– FGL

Here is the second part of Garcia Lorca's ballad concerning the gypsy, Antoñito el Camborio. It is an interesting device the poet uses, having a character within the poem talk to the poet as if he himself were fictional as well. Kathy Acker does this over and over in her novels, however I can not recall many poets using themselves in such ways.

In the first poem it is the Civil Guards who arrest Antoñito; now he calls on Federico himself to rouse the guards as he lays bleeding to death, having fought his own cousins. Why is this? "Only mystery enables us to live," Lorca wrote in the form of a note. Loughran (1994) says in his notes concerning the symbols that appear in the poem:

Veronicas of gillyflowers … is a type of pass executed with the large bullfighting capes (capote) and is named after the legendary woman who held out a piece of cloth to Christ to clean his bloodied and sweating face near Calvary as he carried his cross … The pass bears her name because of the manner in which the cape is presented to the bull with both hands out stretched … Gillyflowers are common Andalusian flowers with (often) yellow or pink flowers, the colors of the capote … Guadalquivir is a river … Benamejí is a town in the province of Córdoba … (page 44)

yummy tree

Muerte de de Antoñito el Camborio Federico Garcia Lorca	Death of Antonio Camborio translated by ZJC
Voces de muerte sonaron cerca del Guadalquivir. Voces antiguas que cercan voz de clavel varonil. Les clavó sobre las botas mordiscos de jabalí. En la lucha daba saltos jabonados de delfín. Baño con sangre enemiga su corbata carmesí, pero eran cuatro puñales y tuvo que sucumbir. Cuando las estrellas clavan rejones al agua gris, cuando los erales sueñan verónicas de alhelí, voces de muerte sonaron cerca del Guadalquivir. Antonio Torres Heredia, Camborio de dura crin, moreno de verde luna, voz de clavel varonil: ¿quién te ha quitado la vida cerca del Guadalquivir? Mis cuatro primos Heredias hijos de Benamejí. Lo que en otros no envidiaban, ya lo envidiaban en mí. Zapatos color corinto, medallones de marfil, y este cutis amasado con aceituna y jazmín. ¡Ay Antoñito el Camborio, digno de una Emperatriz! Acuérate de la Virgen porque te vas a morir. ¡Ay Federico García, llama a la Guardia Civil! Ya mi talle se ha quebrado como caña de maíz. Tres golpes de sangre tuvo y se murió de perfil. Viva moneda que nunca se volverá a repetir. Un ángel marchoso pone su cabeza en un cojín. Otros de rubor cansado, encendieron un candil. Y cuando los cuatro primos llegan a Benamejí, voces de muerte cesaron cerca del Guadalquivir.	Voices of death echoed all about the Guadalquivir. Primitive voices closed in on the voice with the virile carnation. He slashed at their boots with a tusk of a wild boar. Ducking left, right, he was slippery as a dolphin. He drowned his necktie crimson in his enemies' blood, but there were four knives against his and finally he had to give way. When veronicas of gillyflowers are in the dreams of yearling bulls, when stars thrust their lances deep into the leaden waters, voices of death echoed all about the Guadalquivir. "Antonio Torres Heredia, Camborio of the rugged-mane, dusky, green with the moon’s glow voice of the virile carnation: who has taken your life down by the Guadalquivir?" "My four Heredia cousins, children of Benamejí. What they didn't envy in others they found to envy in me. Cherry-colored shoes, my locket of ivory and this smooth skin kneaded with olive, with jasmine." "Ai, Antonio Camborio, deserving of an Empress! Take strength in the Virgin for you are about to die." "Ai, Federico Garcia, summon up the Civil Guard! My slender body, snapped, like a stalk of maize." Three deep stab wounds found his blood, he died in silhouette. A manly coin whose like will never be seen again. A swaggering angel resting his head upon a sham. Others, flushed from toils, lit a lamp of olive oil. And when his four cousins arrived at Benamejí, voices of death hushed themselves down by the Guadalquivir.

Muerte de de
Antoñito el Camborio
Federico Garcia Lorca

Death of Antonio
Camborio
translated by ZJC

Voces de muerte sonaron
cerca del Guadalquivir.
Voces antiguas que cercan
voz de clavel varonil.
Les clavó sobre las botas
mordiscos de jabalí.
En la lucha daba saltos
jabonados de delfín.
Baño con sangre enemiga
su corbata carmesí,
pero eran cuatro puñales
y tuvo que sucumbir.
Cuando las estrellas clavan
rejones al agua gris,
cuando los erales sueñan
verónicas de alhelí,
voces de muerte sonaron
cerca del Guadalquivir.

Antonio Torres Heredia,
Camborio de dura crin,
moreno de verde luna,
voz de clavel varonil:
¿quién te ha quitado la vida
cerca del Guadalquivir?
Mis cuatro primos Heredias
hijos de Benamejí.
Lo que en otros no envidiaban,
ya lo envidiaban en mí.
Zapatos color corinto,
medallones de marfil,
y este cutis amasado
con aceituna y jazmín.
¡Ay Antoñito el Camborio,
digno de una Emperatriz!
Acuérate de la Virgen
porque te vas a morir.
¡Ay Federico García,
llama a la Guardia Civil!
Ya mi talle se ha quebrado
como caña de maíz.

Tres golpes de sangre tuvo
y se murió de perfil.
Viva moneda que nunca
se volverá a repetir.
Un ángel marchoso pone
su cabeza en un cojín.
Otros de rubor cansado,
encendieron un candil.
Y cuando los cuatro primos
llegan a Benamejí,
voces de muerte cesaron
cerca del Guadalquivir.

Voices of death echoed
all about the Guadalquivir.
Primitive voices closed in on
the voice with the virile carnation.
He slashed at their boots
with a tusk of a wild boar.
Ducking left, right, he
was slippery as a dolphin.
He drowned his necktie crimson
in his enemies' blood,
but there were four knives against his
and finally he had to give way.
When veronicas of gillyflowers
are in the dreams of yearling bulls,
when stars thrust their lances
deep into the leaden waters,
voices of death echoed
all about the Guadalquivir.

"Antonio Torres Heredia,
Camborio of the rugged-mane,
dusky, green with the moon’s glow
voice of the virile carnation:
who has taken your life
down by the Guadalquivir?"
"My four Heredia cousins,
children of Benamejí.
What they didn't envy in others
they found to envy in me.
Cherry-colored shoes,
my locket of ivory
and this smooth skin
kneaded with olive, with jasmine."
"Ai, Antonio Camborio,
deserving of an Empress!
Take strength in the Virgin
for you are about to die."
"Ai, Federico Garcia,
summon up the Civil Guard!
My slender body, snapped,
like a stalk of maize."

Three deep stab wounds found
his blood, he died in silhouette.
A manly coin whose like
will never be seen again.
A swaggering angel resting
his head upon a sham.
Others, flushed from toils,
lit a lamp of olive oil.
And when his four cousins
arrived at Benamejí,
voices of death hushed themselves
down by the Guadalquivir.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 8th, 2005 at 2:28 pm and is filed under Scantily Clad Info Dump, Translations, Spanish Translations, Federico Garcia Lorca. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Garcia Lorca’s Antoñito el Camborio — part II

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