Photography. CC (c) National Library of Spain
Anthony Gala is one of the writers, playwrights and poets most read and admired. And he was born on a day like today 90 years in Brazatortas (Ciudad Real), although it is adoption cordovan. He has played all the suits, from theater, journalism, script, rehearsal and story. He has also received many awards throughout such an extensive career, such as the National Literature, City of Barcelona or the Planet. With such well-known titles as Turkish pasion o The crimson manuscript, among others, of his poetic work stand out Sonnets by La Zubia o Love poems. Today I celebrate his birthday with this selection of 6 sonnets.
Antonio Gala - Sonnets
Green sonnet
When in October love for the seed
conspires with April's gaze
I was subjugated by a wrong rose:
if heart green, yellow complexion.
From one night to another wonder
-wax already agraz, already warped pen-
Dawn returned, clean and sharp,
tearing my cheek pure.
Green prison and deep, green meadow,
that you feed the unruly hope
with flowering grass, my owner's smile:
death rise and kill me by your side,
what emeralds, cantáridas and mints
they have arranged a deep green sleep for me.
***
Your love, yesterday so firm, is so alien ...
Your love, yesterday so firm, is so alien,
so foreign your mouth and your waist,
that bitterness seems little to me
that today around me I contemplate full.
The evil you did I took for good;
as a treat for your tear:
nor do I open my chest to a wound that does not last
nor with wines of oblivion do I serene.
My heart has you so present
that sometimes, because he lives, I distrust
let him feel the lack of love as he feels it.
I have won in the detour set:
of our sad history only
the weapon is yours; All the pain, mine
***
Sentence
He condemns me to forced labor
my heart, of which I gave you the key.
I do not want torment to end,
and of steel I claim my chain.
Nor does my mind conceive a greater sorrow
what freedom without a kiss to lock her in,
nor punishment conceives less serious
that a cell of love with you fills.
I do not believe in a hell more than your absence.
Paradise without you, I reject it.
Let no judge declare my innocence
because, in this long-term process
I will only look for the sentence
to life imprisonment from your embrace.
***
The moon looked for us from the battlement ...
The moon sought us from the battlement,
sang the ditch, oblivion throbbed.
My heart, fearless and captive,
stretched out his hands, true to your chain.
What sheets of grass and a full moon
involved the decisive act.
What a sweaty and alive noon
whitewash the lily night.
Through the green corners of the meeting
the caresses, anxious, were lost
as in a thicket, body inside.
God and his things recognized us.
Again the world turned, and at its center
two mouths, one by one, were drank.
***
Who could bite you slowly ...
Who could bite you slowly
like a bitter fruit on the rind.
Who could sleep in your roughness
like the day in the Sierra del Poniente.
Who could give up the jaded brow
against the harsh edge of your beauty,
and face sadness smiling,
broken peace and indifferent step.
Who could, my love, the rowdy one
resistance of the distracted soul
lead your parva appeased.
Who could flaunt, like a bridle,
the unparalleled rainbow of your gaze
from your light to my fallen black.
***
Ella
The time in love drank in your mouth
and curdled it with the kisses of a dove.
Your neck is chaste, on the gold it appears
just for the cherished gold.
Lunado the hair, the heart lunado,
blush just from the scent air.
Ritual poppy your torso takes
and takes you away from the blue-green sea.
Your honey gaze, burning marsh,
the old light with the new lights
-newly awake and already tired- alia.
Victory hurts you, and meekly
you carry your destiny of love,
delicate and bloody life of mine.