. .The small boy is looking for his voice.
(The King of the Crickets had it.)
The boy was looking
in a drop of water for his voice.
. .I don’t want the voice to speak with;
I will make a ring from it
that my silence will wear
on its little finger.
. .The small boy was looking
in a drop of water for his voice.
. .(Far away the captured voice
was getting dressed up like a cricket.)
translated by Robert Bly
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Leonard Durso 
Remarkable poem and good translation
Bly is a wonderful translator. I often return to him.
Reblogged this on Leonard Durso.
Reblogged this on Another Kind Of Grass.
Thanks for reblogging this Lorca poem.
You’re so welcome Leonard! 🙂