This requires a note of explanation. I thought I’d have a go at doing a version of one of Lorca’s Sonnets of Dark Love that maintained the form. I only managed the first quatrain, but it looks enough like a stand-alone poem that it’ll do. The poem this is taken from is much more interesting than my slightly wishy-washy rendering of the first four lines would suggest, but hey-ho. The Spanish for translate is ‘traducir’ and I can’t help feeling I’ve traduced a bit here, but never mind, he’s been dead for 70 years, so it can’t do him much harm.
I must not lose the mystery
of the polished stone of your eyes,
or the mark that is left upon me
by the rose of your midnight sighs.
Lorca is definitely worth reading; I was particularly struck by the Lament for Ignacio Sánchez Mejías, of what I’ve read so far.