Romance de Don Boyso

Romance Poem by Don Boyso García Lorca with audio, translated into English and image created by AI under the influence of the painter Esteban Murillo
Romance Poem by Don Boyso García Lorca with audio, translated into English and image created by AI under the influence of the painter Esteban Murillo

Camina Don Boyso

mañanita fría

a tierra de moros

a buscar amiga.

Hallóla lavando

en la fuente fría.

?¿Qué haces ahí, mora,

hija de judía?

Deja a mí caballo

beber agua fría.

?Reviente el caballo

y quien lo traía,

que yo no soy mora

ni hija de judía.

Soy una cristiana

que aquí estoy cativa.

?Si fueras cristiana,

yo te llevaría

y en paños de seda

yo te envolvería,

pero si eres mora

yo te dejaría.

Montóla a caballo

por ver qué decía;

en las siete leguas

no hablara la niña.

Al pasar un campo

de verdes olivas

por aquellos prados

qué llantos hacía.

?¡Ay, prados! ¡Ay, prados!

prados de mi vida.

Cuando el rey, mi padre,

plantó aquí esta oliva,

él se la plantara,

yo se la tenía,

la reina, mi madre,

la seda torcía,

mi hermano, Don Boyso,

los toros corría.

?¿Y cómo te llamas?

?Yo soy Rosalinda,

que así me pusieron

porque al ser nacida

una linda rosa

n’el pecho tenía.

?Pues tú, por las señas,

mi hermana serías.

Abre la mi madre

puertas de alegría,

por traerla nuera

le traigo su hija.

Translation to English: Romance of Don Boyso

Don Boyso walks

cold morning

to the land of the Moors

to look for a friend.

He found her washing

in the cold dish.

?What are you doing there, mora,

daughter of a Jewess?

Leave my horse

drink cold water.

?Bust the horse

and whoever brought it,

that I am not a mora

nor the daughter of a Jewess.

I am a Christian

because here I am captive.

?If you were a Christian,

I would take you

and in silk cloths

I would wrap you,

but if you are black

I would leave you.

He rode her on horseback

to see what he said;

in the seven leagues

the girl will not speak.

When passing a field

olive green

through those meadows

how crying she made.

?Oh, meadows! Oh, meadows!

meadows of my life.

When the king, my father,

he planted this olive here,

he will plant it,

I had it for him,

the queen, my mother,

the silk twisted,

my brother, Don Boyso,

the bulls ran.

?And what is your name?

?I am Rosalinda,

that’s how they put me

because when she was born

a pretty rose

I had no chest.

?Well, you, by the signs,

you would be my sister.

Open my mother

doors of joy,

for bringing her daughter-in-law

I bring you her daughter.


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