In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the
street corner
the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the
stars.
Nobody is asleep on earth. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
In a graveyard far off there is a corpse
who has moaned for three years
because of a dry countryside on his knee;
and that boy they buried this morning cried so much
it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.
Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful!
We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth
or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead
dahlias.
But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.
One day
the horses will live in the saloons
and the enraged ants
will throw themselves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the
eyes of cows.
Another day
we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead
and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats
we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue.
Careful! Be careful! Be careful!
The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm,
and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention
of the bridge,
or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe,
we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes
are waiting,
where the bear's teeth are waiting,
where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting,
and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder.
Nobody is sleeping in the sky. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is sleeping.
If someone does close his eyes,
a whip, boys, a whip!
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and bitter wounds on fire.
No one is sleeping in this world. No one, no one.
I have said it before.
No one is sleeping.
But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the
night,
open the stage trapdoors so he can see in the moonlight
the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the t
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This is a poem that intoxicates. Ironically today's message by Leonard Cohen is a testiment to Lorca's appeal. Cohen was often quoted in his love of Lorca; he even named his daughter after the poet!
There are lines/images that haunt for a lifetime, such as, "and the enraged ants will throw them- selves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the eyes of cows." How about, "The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,and the man
who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the street corner"? Images that defy logic, and yet work. The repetition throughout this poem gives this the feel of a song--and it very well could have been. Lorca was a musician and often wrote the lyrics from his beloved country. There is also woven in the tapestry of words lore and mythical, pagan images. There are some words missing from the end of the poem.
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comments from duplicated version
unknown user on August 15, 2005 2005
Lorca uses the framework of a dream to discuss reality- although, as others have suggested, he comments on the danger of dreaming, the reality that he paints for us, with unbelievable alligators and violent blue shudders, is full of synesthesia- Lorca's reality is the most dreamlike possible. So as he warns us against the danger of dreaming, he also warns us against the constraints of conscious reality. He reminds us that nobody is sleeping, that only the flesh exists, so perhaps in fact he is actually confirming the importance of dreaming by suggesting that it is not a dream at all- nobody is sleeping, even the dead are not sleeping, and in Lorca's world iguanas and snakes are waiting for those who are overly tied up in the binaries between reality and a dream. He suggests that dreams are not dreams at all- they are also real. We never sleep.
RollingStone on May 28, 2004 2004
this is a wonderful lorca poem. he addresses life and death and the quality (good or bad) of dreaming. his mind leaps around in imagery from one level to another, almost surreal-like, to create a bizarre feel in this piece. this poem reminds me of a salvador dali painting, which is no surprise since dali and lorca were friends.
I never get tired of reading this poem.
Vibrato on May 28, 2004 2004
World's a stage right? Everyone is dreaming that they are in the leading role, so much so that they forget to wash the cat etc.
Dragonshadowed on May 28, 2004 2004
This poem continues to fascinate me. In ways, it does seem like a warning to all of us. We are warned against having our heads in the clouds, and relying simply on our dreams. However, if we go through life, basking in the stark and bitter reality, then we are no better than the dreamers. I agree with some of the other comments that have been made, that we need to find a middle ground somewhere between latching firmly onto reality, and floating on the whims of our dreams. This poem has inspired many thoughts for me.
unknown user on January 7, 2004 2004
Waking Life has been, by far, the greatest artwork i have ever seen. It was so beautifully done with its insight on existentialism. I do quite fancy that film, indeed.
I likewise, took refuge in this poem. I find myself growing more fond of it every time I reread it. I believe Lorca was warning us not to simply waste our lives in a dream-like state for there is far too much in this world to simply waste on sleeping. Also, Lorca tries to convey a sense of fear for those who only dream, but knows there is nothing for those who do not dream. In a sense, i believe we should unite our dream-world with out realities, like Matt suggested.
unknown user on January 3, 2004 2004
i have really thought about this poem a lot recently. maybe lorca is speaking about life not being a dream as a warning to us. perhaps he is telling us to be alert and active. speed levitch in waking life recalls this poem and says that we should accept life as a test, that we should prove ourselves and experience each other. on reading more about levitch, i have found a great deal of meaning in this poem. lorca seems to think those who only dream and are idle simple die and rot away. on the other hand, we are challenged to rise up to experience life, much like the transcendentalists taught. beware! life is not a dream, and there should be nobody sleeping, and no one who lets their pain pain them, because they will not feel that pain forever. the trick is to combine the endless possibilities of your dream with your waking life.
unknown user on October 21, 2003 2003
Wow this is powerful. I enjoyed the build up in this poem. Melody
Lute on October 21, 2003 2003
Frederico here denies the famous life is a dream scenario and finds hin-mself apalled at the stark reality which surrounds him.
CWM on October 21, 2003 2003
Very interesting...enjoyable read...yes like you said great ending...~CWM~
Ava Noire on October 21, 2003 2003
City That Does Not Sleep is in my opinion, an interesting thought. I really like the ending. Something about the moonlight and poison that sends quickens my pulse.
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comments from duplicated version
cheesy noodle on June 20, 2004 2004
I have read this poem a couple hundred thousand times. Ok maybe not that many times but I have read it a lot. It is printed out in one of my old college notebooks, i had tomemorize and analyze it for lit.
its one of my favorites, so cool i have come acrost it today
Ava Noire on June 18, 2004 2004
The moon Goddess Selene and Endymion her mortal lover perhaps?? philophant on December 9, 2003 2003
hmm. what could he mean by "the archers"? Ava Noire on July 12, 2003 2003
lily, moon, purple clouds - beautiful images to portray an interesting message. /Love is blind/ -
great great stuff, but then again, do you expect any less from garcia lorca?...
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Interesting visuals, though I am left to wonder how much was lost during the translation... It seems things are changed around a bit, material is lost, etc, when someone translates. But anyway, I liked this. Enraged ants was a weird phrase though. Of course I wondered what had enraged them.
Visually stimulating piece tho
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