Nine Centuries of Spanish Literature: A Dual-Language Book

Nine Centuries of Spanish Literature: A Dual-Language Book

by Seymour Resnick, Jeanne Pasmantier

Paperback(Spanish Language Edition)

$18.95
View All Available Formats & Editions
Members save with free shipping everyday! 
See details

Overview


This rich sampling of Spanish poetry, prose, and drama includes more than seventy selections from the works of more than forty writers, from the anonymous author of the great medieval epic The Poem of the Cid to such 20th-century masters as Miguel de Unamuno. The original Spanish text of each work appears with an excellent English translation on the facing page.
The anthology begins with carefully selected passages from such medieval classics as The Book of Good Love by the Archpriest of Hita and Spain's first great prose work, the stories of Count Lucanor by Juan Manuel. Works by writers of the Spanish Renaissance follow, among them poems by the Marqués de Santillana and excerpts from the great dialogue novel La Celestina by Fernando de Rojas.
Spain's Golden age, ca. 1550-1650, an era which produced its great writers, is represented by the mystical poems of St. Teresa, passages from Cervantes' Don Quixote and scenes from Tirso de Molina's The Love-Rogue, the drama that introduced the character of Don Juan to the world, along with other well-known works of the period. A cavalcade of stirring poems, plays and prose selections represent Spain's rare literary achievements of the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries.
The translations were chosen for their accuracy and fidelity to the originals. Among the translators are Lord Byron, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Edward FitzGerald and John Masefield. As a treasury of masterly writing, as a guide for the student who wants to improve his or her language skills and as a compact survey of Spanish literature, this excellent anthology will provide hours of pleasure and fruitful study.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780486282718
Publisher: Dover Publications
Publication date: 10/20/1994
Series: Dover Dual Language Spanish
Edition description: Spanish Language Edition
Pages: 480
Sales rank: 1,213,631
Product dimensions: 5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x (d)

Read an Excerpt

Nine Centuries of Spanish Literature Nueve Siglos de Literatura Española

A Dual-Language Anthology


By Seymour Resnick, Jeanne Pasmantier

Dover Publications, Inc.

Copyright © 1994 Dove Publications, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-486-12285-4



CHAPTER 1

Medieval Period


THE POEM OF THE CID

[c. 1140]

Spain's national hero in the history of its wars with the Moors is Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar (1040?–1099). A nobleman of the court of Alfonso VI of Castile, he was given the sobriquet El Cid (the lord, master) because of his numerous victories and his intrepid courage. After the Cid's death, tales of his exploits—somewhat fictionalized and idealized—circulated among the people, and he became the subject of ballads, chronicles, and the great epic of early Spanish literature, the Poema del Cid (also called Cantar de Mío Cid). Composed about 1140, it has been preserved in a copy made in 1307 by one Pedro Abad. Its 3,730 verses relate some of the adventures of the Cid in his maturity, and it is divided into three major sections or cantos. The first (from which the selections presented here are taken) deals with the exile of the Cid from Castile after falling into the King's disfavour. In the second canto, King Alfonso is reconciled with the Cid and arranges the marriage of the Cid's two daughters to the Infantes (Princes) of Carrion. The final division describes the shameful behaviour of the Infantes towards their wives and the Cid's revenge upon them.

The Poema del Cid does not contain fantastic or superhuman adventures, so common to the early epics of other nations. Rather it is notable for its realism and humanity—the stirring story of a flesh-and-blood hero.

Our Spanish selection is taken from the modern poetic version by the Spanish poet and critic Pedro Salinas (1892-1951).


    POEMA DEL CID

    ADIÓS DEL CID A VIVAR

      Los ojos de Mío Cid mucho llanto van llorando;
    Hacia atrás vuelve la vista y se quedaba mirándolos.
    Vió cómo estaban las puertas abiertas y sin candados,
    Vacías quedan las perchas ni con pieles ni con mantos,
    Sin halcones de cazar y sin azores mudados.
    Y habló, como siempre habla, tan justo y tan mesurado:
    '¡Bendito seas, Dios mío, Padre que estás en lo alto!
    Contra mí tramaron esto mis enemigos malvados.'

      Ya aguijan a los caballos, ya les soltaron las riendas.
    Cuando salen de Vivar ven la corneja a la diestra,
    Pero al ir a entrar en Burgos la llevaban a su izquierda.
    Movió Mío Cid los hombros y sacudió la cabeza:
    '¡Animo, Álvar Fáñez, ánimo, de nuestra tierra nos echan,
    Pero cargados de honra hemos de volver a ella!'

      Ya por la ciudad de Burgos el Cid Ruy Díaz entró.
    Sesenta pendones lleva detrás el Campeador.
    Todos salían a verle, niño, mujer y varón,
    A las ventanas de Burgos mucha gente se asomó.
    ¡Cuántos ojos que lloraban de grande que era el dolor!
    Y de los labios de todos sale la misma razón:
    '¡Qué buen vasallo sería si tuviese buen señor!'

      De grado le albergarían, pero ninguno lo osaba,
    Que a Ruy Díaz de Vivar le tiene el rey mucha saña.
    La noche pasada a Burgos llevaron una real carta
    Con severas prevenciones y fuertemente sellada
    Mandando que a Mío Cid nadie le diese posada,
    Que si alguno se la da sepa lo que le esperaba:
    Sus haberes perdería, más los ojos de la cara,
    Y además se perdería salvación de cuerpo y alma.

      Gran dolor tienen en Burgos todas las gentes cristianas.
    De Mío Cid se escondían: no pueden decirle nada.

      Se dirige Mío Cid adonde siempre paraba;
    Cuando a la puerta llegó se la encuentra bien cerrada.
    Por miedo del rey Alfonso acordaron los de casa
    Que como el Cid no la rompa no se la abrirán por nada.
    La gente de Mío Cid a grandes voces llamaba,
    Los de dentro no querían contestar una palabra.
    Mío Cid picó el caballo, a la puerta se acercaba,
    El pie sacó del estribo, y con él gran golpe daba,
    Pero no se abrió la puerta, que estaba muy bien cerrada.
    La niña de nueve años muy cerca del Cid se para:

      'Campeador que en bendita hora ceñiste la espada,
    El rey lo ha vedado anoche a Burgos llegó su carta,
    Con severas prevenciones y fuertemente sellada.
    No nos atrevemos, Cid, a darte asilo por nada,
    Porque si no perderíamos los haberes y las casas,
    Perderíamos también los ojos de nuestras caras.
    Cid, en el mal de nosotros vos no vais ganando nada.
    Seguid y que os proteja Dios con sus virtudes santas.'

      Esto le dijo la niña y se volvió hacia su casa.
    Bien claro ha visto Ruy Díaz que del rey no espere gracia.
    De allí se aparta, por Burgos a buen paso atravesaba,
    A Santa María llega, del caballo descabalga,
    Las rodillas hinca en tierra y de corazón rogaba.
    Cuando acabó su oración el Cid otra vez cabalga,
    De las murallas salió, el río Arlanzón cruzaba.
    Junto a Burgos, esa villa, en el arenal posaba,
    Las tiendas mandó plantar y del caballo se baja.
    Mío Cid el de Vivar que en buen hora ciñó espada
    En un arenal posó, que nadie le abre su casa.
    Pero en torno suyo hay guerreros que le acompañan.
    Así acampó Mío Cid cual si anduviera en montaña.
    Prohibido tiene el rey que en Burgos le vendan nada
    De todas aquellas cosas que le sirvan de vianda.
    No se atreven a venderle ni la ración más menguada.


    EL CID SE DESPIDE DE SU ESPOSA

      Aprisa cantan los gallos y quebrar quiere el albor
    Del día, cuando a San Pedro llega el buen Campeador.
    Estaba el abad Don Sancho, muy buen cristiano de Dios,
    Rezando ya los maitines apenas amaneció.
    Y estaba Doña Jimena con cinco damas de pro
    Rogando a San Pedro apóstol y a Cristo Nuestro Señor:
    'Tú, que eres guía de todos, guíame al Campeador.'

      A la puerta llaman; todos saben que el Cid ha llegado.
    ¡Dios, qué alegre que se ha puesto ese buen abad Don Sancho!
    Con luces y con candelas los monjes salen al patio.

      'Gracias a Dios, Mío Cid, le dijo el abad Don Sancho,
    Puesto que os tengo aquí, por mí seréis hospedado.'
    Esto le contesta entonces Mío Cid el bienhadado:

      'Contento de vos estoy y agradecido, Don Sancho,
    Prepararé la comida mía y la de mis vasallos.
    Hoy que salgo de esta tierra os daré cincuenta marcos,
    Si Dios me concede vida os he de dar otro tanto.
    No quiero que el monasterio por mí sufra ningún gasto.
    Para mi esposa Jimena os entrego aquí cien marcos;
    A ella, a sus hijas y damas podréis servir este año.
    Dos hijas niñas os dejo, tomadlas a vuestro amparo.
    A vos os las encomiendo en mi ausencia, abad Don Sancho,
    En ellas y en mi mujer ponedme todo cuidado.
    Si ese dinero se acaba o si os faltare algo
    Dadles lo que necesiten, abad, así os lo mando.
    Por un marco que gastéis, al convento daré cuatro.'
    Así se lo prometió el abad de muy buen grado.
    Ved aquí a Doña Jimena, con sus hijas va llegando,

      A cada una de las niñas la lleva una dama en brazos.
    Doña Jimena ante el Cid las dos rodillas ha hincado.
    Llanto tenía en los ojos, quísole besar las manos.

      Le dice: 'Gracias os pido, Mío Cid el bienhadado.
    Por calumnias de malsines del reino vais desterrado.

      '¡Merced os pido, buen Cid, noble barba tan crecida!
    Aquí ante vos me tenéis, Mío Cid, y a vuestras hijas,
    De muy poca edad las dos y todavía tan niñas.
    Conmigo vienen también las damas que nos servían.
    Bien veo, Campeador, que preparáis vuestra ida;
    Tenemos que separarnos estando los dos en vida.
    ¡Decidnos lo que hay que hacer, oh Cid, por Santa María!'
    Las dos manos inclinó el de la barba crecida,
    A sus dos niñitas coge, en sus brazos las subía,
    Al corazón se las llega, de tanto que las quería.
    Llanto le asoma a los ojos y muy fuerte que suspira.
    'Es verdad, Doña Jimena, esposa honrada y bendita,
    Tanto cariño os tengo como tengo al alma mía.
    Tenemos que separarnos, ya lo veis, los dos en vida;
    A vos os toca quedaros, a mí me toca la ida.
    ¡Quiera Dios y con El quiera la Santa Virgen María
    Que con estas manos pueda aún casar a nuestras hijas
    Y que me quede ventura y algunos días de vida
    Para poderos servir, mujer honrada y bendita!'


    EL CID Y EL CONDE DE BARCELONA

      Así ganó esta batalla, a gran honra de sus barbas.
    Cogió al conde Don Ramón y a su tienda le llevaba,
    A hombres de su confianza los mandó que le guardaran.
    Le deja allí, y de la tienda el Campeador se marcha;
    Por todas partes los suyos a juntársele llegaban.
    Muy contento que está el Cid, muy grandes son las ganancias.
    A Mío Cid Don Rodrigo gran comida le preparan;
    Pero el conde Don Ramón no hacía caso de nada,
    Los manjares le traían, delante se los plantaban,
    Él no los quiere comer y todos los desdeñaba.

      'No he de comer un bocado por todo el oro de España,
    Antes perderé mi cuerpo y condenaré mi alma,
    Ya que tales malcalzados me vencieron en batalla.'

      Mío Cid Campeador bien oiréis lo que ahora dijo:
    'Comed, conde, de este pan, bebed, conde, de este vino,
    De cautiverio saldréis si hacéis lo que yo os digo,
    Si no, en todos nuestros días no veréis ningún ser vivo.'

      'Comed, comed, Don Rodrigo, tranquilo podéis estar,
    Pero yo no comeré, el hambre me matará.'

      Hasta pasados tres días no se vuelve el conde atrás.
    Mientras ellos se reparten lo que hubieron de ganar
    No logran que coma el conde ni una migaja de pan.


    THE POEM OF THE CID

    THE BANISHMENT OF THE CID

      He turned and looked upon them, and he wept very sore
    As he saw the yawning gateway and the hasps wrenched off the door,
    And the pegs whereon no mantle nor coat of vair there hung.
    There perched no moulting goshawk, and there no falcon swung.
    My lord the Cid sighed deeply such grief was in his heart
    And he spake well and wisely: 'Oh Thou, in Heaven that art
    Our Father and our Master, now I give thanks to Thee.
    Of their wickedness my foemen have done this thing to me.'

      Then they shook out the bridle rein further to ride afar.
    They had the crow on their right hand as they issued from Bivar;
    And as they entered Burgos upon their left it sped.
    And the Cid shrugged his shoulders, and the Cid shook his head:
    'Good tidings Alvar Fañez! We are banished from our weal,
    But on a day with honour shall we come unto Castile.'

      Roy Diaz entered Burgos with sixty pennons strong,
    And forth to look upon him did the men and women throng.
    And with their wives the townsmen at the windows stood hard by,
    And they wept in lamentation, their grief was risen so high.
    As with one mouth, together they spake with one accord :
    'God, what a noble vassal, an he had a worthy lord.'

      Fain had they made him welcome, but none dared do the thing
    For fear of Don Alfonso, and the fury of the King.
    His mandate unto Burgos came ere the evening fell.
    With utmost care they brought it, and it was sealèd well:
    'That no man to Roy Diaz give shelter now, take heed.
    And if one give him shelter, let him know in very deed
    He shall lose his whole possession, nay! the eyes within his head
    Nor shall his soul and body be found in better stead.'

      Great sorrow had the Christians, and from his face they hid.
    Was none dared aught to utter unto my lord the Cid.

      Then the Campeador departed unto his lodging straight.
    But when he was come thither, they had locked and barred the gate.
    In their fear of King Alfonso had they done even so.
    And the Cid forced not his entrance, neither for weal nor woe
    Durst they open it unto him. Loudly his men did call.
    Nothing thereto in answer said the folk within the hall.
    My lord the Cid spurred onward, to the doorway did he go.
    He drew his foot from the stirrup, he smote the door one blow.
    Yet the door would not open, for they had barred it fast.
    But a maiden of nine summers came unto him at last:

      'Campeador in happy hour thou girdest on the sword.
    'Tis the King's will. Yestereven came the mandate of our lord.
    With utmost care they brought it, and it was sealed with care :
    None to ope to you or greet you for any cause shall dare.
    And if we do, we forfeit houses and lands instead.
    Nay we shall lose morever, the eyes within the head.
    And, Cid, with our misfortune, naught whatever dost thou gain.
    But may God with all His power support thee in thy pain.'

      So spake the child and turned away. Unto her home went she.
    That he lacked the King's favour now well the Cid might see.
    He left the door; forth onward he spurred through Burgos town.
    When he had reached Saint Mary's, then he got swiftly down.
    He fell upon his knee and prayed with a true heart indeed :
    And when the prayer was over, he mounted on the steed.
    Forth from the gate and over the Arlanzon he went.
    There in the sand by Burgos, the Cid let pitch his tent.
    Roy Diaz who in happy hour had girded on the brand,
    Since none at home would greet him, encamped there on the sand
    With a good squadron, camping as if within the wood.
    They will not let him in Burgos buy any kind of food.
    Provender for a single day they dared not to him sell.


    THE CID'S FAREWELL TO HIS WIFE

      And it was night to morning, and the cocks full oft they crew,
    When at last my lord the Campeador unto San Pedro came.
    God's Christian was the Abbot. Don Sancho was his name;
    And he was saying matins at the breaking of the day.
    With her five good dames in waiting Ximena there did pray.
    They prayed unto Saint Peter and God they did implore :
    'O thou who guidest all mankind, succour the Campeador.'

      One knocked at the doorway, and they heard the tidings then.
    God wot the Abbot Sancho was the happiest of men.
    With the lights and with the candles to the court they ran forthright,
    And him who in good hour was born they welcomed in delight.

      'My lord Cid,' quoth the Abbot, 'Now God be praised of grace!
    Do thou accept my welcome, since I see thee in this place.'
    And the Cid who in good hour was born, thereunto answered he:

      'My thanks to thee, don Sancho, I am content with thee.
    For myself and for my vassals provision will I make.
    Since I depart to exile, these fifty marks now take.
    If I may live my life-span, they shall be doubled you.
    To the Abbey not a groatsworth of damage will I do.
    For my lady do I give you an hundred marks again.
    Herself, her dames and daughters for this year do you maintain.
    I leave two daughters with you, but little girls they be.
    In thine arms keep them kindly. I commend them here to thee.
    Don Sancho do thou guard them, and of my wife take care.
    If thou wantest yet and lackest for anything whate'er,
    Look well to their provision, thee I conjure once more,
    And for one mark that thou spendest the Abbey shall have four.'
    And with glad heart the Abbot his full assent made plain.

      And lo! the Dame Ximena came with her daughters twain.
    Each had her dame-in-waiting who the little maiden bore.
    And Dame Ximena bent the knee before the Campeador.
    And fain she was to kiss his hand, and, oh, she wept forlorn!

      'A boon! A boon! my Campeador. In a good hour wast thou born.
    And because of wicked slanderers art thou banished from the land.

      'Oh Campeador fair-bearded a favour at thy hand!
    Behold I kneel before thee, and thy daughters are here with me,
    That have seen of days not many, for children yet they be,
    And these who are my ladies to serve my need that know.
    Now well do I behold it, thou art about to go.
    Now from thee our lives a season must sunder and remove,
    But unto us give succour for sweet Saint Mary's love.'

      The Cid, the nobly bearded, reached down unto the twain,
    And in his arms his daughters has lifted up again,
    And to his heart he pressed them, so great his love was grown,
    And his tears fell fast and bitter, and sorely did he moan :
    'Ximena as mine own spirit I loved thee, gentle wife;
    But o'er well dost thou behold it, we must sunder in our life.
    I must flee and thou behind me here in the land must stay.
    Please God and sweet Saint Mary that yet upon a day
    I shall give my girls in marriage with mine own hand rich and well,
    And thereafter in good fortune be suffered yet to dwell,
    May they grant me, wife, much honoured, to serve thee then once more.'


    THE CID AND THE COUNT OF BARCELONA

      By the victory there much honour unto his beard he did.
    And then the Count to his own tent was taken by the Cid.
    He bade his squires guard him. From the tent he hastened then.
    From every side together about him came his men.
    The Cid was glad, so mighty were the spoils of that defeat.
    For the lord Cid don Rodrigo they prepared great stock of meat.
    But namely the Count don Remond, thereby he set no store.
    To him they brought the viands, and placed them him before.
    He would not eat, and at them all he mocked with might and main :

      'I will not eat a mouthful for all the wealth in Spain;
    Rather will I lose my body and forsake my soul forby,
    Since beaten in the battle by such tattered louts was I.'

      My lord the Cid Roy Diaz you shall hearken what he said :
    'Drink of the wine I prithee, Count, eat also of the bread.
    If this thou dost, no longer shalt thou be a captive then;
    If not, then shalt thou never see Christendom again.'

      'Do thou eat, don Rodrigo, and prepare to slumber sweet.
    For myself I will let perish, and nothing will I eat.'

      And in no way were they able to prevail till the third day,
    Nor make him eat a mouthful while they portioned the great prey.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from Nine Centuries of Spanish Literature Nueve Siglos de Literatura Española by Seymour Resnick, Jeanne Pasmantier. Copyright © 1994 Dove Publications, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of Dover Publications, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION
Medieval Period
ANONYMOUS
Poema del Cid
The Poem of the Cid
GONZALO de BERCEO
Milagros de Nuestra Señora
The Miracles of Our Lady
ALFONSO X
Las siete partidas
The Seven Parts
JUAN MANUEL
El Conde Lucanor
Count Lucanor
ARCHPRIEST of HITA
El Libro de buen amor
The Book of Good Love
Renaissance
ARCHPRIEST OF TALAVERA
El corbacho
The Scourge
MARQUÉS de SANTILLANA
Serranilla VI
Mountain Song VI
Canción
Poem
JORGE MANRIQUE
Coplas por la muerte de su padre
Ode on the Death of His Father
JUAN ESCRIVÁ
Canción
Welcome Death
ANONYMOUS POEMS
El beso
The Kiss
Axa y Fátima y Marién
"Axa, Fátima and Marién"
BALLADS
El Conde Arnaldos
Count Arnaldos
Romance del prisionero
The Prisoner
Romance de la hija del rey de Francia
The French Princess
Romance de Fonte-Frida
Fount of Freshness
El reino perdido
The Lamentation of Don Roderick
"Abenámar, Abenámar"
"Abenámar, Abenámar"
La pérdida de alhama
"Woe is Me, Alhama"
La constancia
My Ornaments Are Arms
FERNANDO de ROJAS
La Celestina
The Celestina
GIL VICENTE
Muy graciosa es la doncella
Grace and Beauty has the Maid
Dicen que me case yo
Cassandra's Song of Celibacy
GARCILASO de la VeGA
Égloga Primera
Eclogue I
Soneto X
Sonnet X
GUTIERRE de CETINA
Madrigal
Madrigal
ANONYMOUS
Lazarillo de Tormes
Lazarillo de Tormes
The Golden Age
LUIS de LEÓN
Vida retirada
Ode to Retirement
Oda a Francisco Salinas
Ode to Francisco Salinas
Morada del cielo
The Life of the Blessed
En la Ascension
Hymn on the Ascension
Al salir de la cárcel
On Leaving Prison
SANTA TERESA de JESÚS
Vivo sin vivir en mí
I Die Because I Do Not Die
Nada te turbe
Let Nothing Disturb Thee
SAN JUAN de la CRUZ
Noche oscura del alma
Songs of the Soul
Llama de amor viva
O Flame of Living Love
Coplas hechas sobre un éxtasis de alta contemplación
Verses Written After an Ecstasy of High Exaltation
LOPE de RUEDA
Las aceitunas
The Olives
MIGUEL de CERVANTS SAAVEDRA
Don Quijote
Don Quixote
FRANCISCO GÓMEZ de QUEVEDO
La vida del Buscón
"Paul, the Spanish Sharper"
Letrilla
The Lord of Dollars
Soneto: Avisos de la muerte
Death Warnings
LUIS de GÓNGORA Y ARGOTE
Ande yo caliente
Let Me Go Warm
Letrilla
The Loveliest Girl
Letrilla
"Come, Wandering Sheep, O Come"
Las Soledades
The Solitudes
LOPE de VEGA
Fuenteovejuna
Fuenteovejuna
Cantarcillo de la Virgen
Lullaby of the Virgin
Soneto
Tomorrow
Soneto
Sonnet on a Sonnet
TIRSO DE MOLINA
El burlador de Sevilla
The Love-Rogue
PEDRO CALDERÓN de la BARCA
La vida es sueño
Life Is a Dream
The 18th Century
JOSÉ CADALSO
Cartas marruecas
Moroccan Letters
TOMÁS DE IRIARTE
"El oso, la mona y el cerdo"
"The Bear, the Monkey and the Hog"
El burro flautista
The Ass and the Flute
FÉLIX MARÍA de SAMANIEGO
El moven filósofo y sus compañeros
The Young Philosopher and His Friends
JUAN MELÉNDEX VALDÉS
De mis niñeces
Juvenilities
MARIANO JOSÉ de LARRA
El castellano viejo
The Old Castilian
JOSÉ de ESPRONCEDA
Canción del pirata
Pirate's Song
JOSÉ ZORRILLA
Boabdil
Boabdil
RAMÓN de CAMPOAMOR
Doloras
Doloras
GUSTAVO ADOLFO BÉCQUER
Rimas
Rhymes
PEDRO ANTONIO de ALARCÓN
El sombrero de tres picos
The Three-Cornered Hat
JUAN VALERA
Pepita Jiménez
Pepita Jiménez
BENITO PÉREZ GALDÓS
Doña Perfecta
Doña Perfecta
JOSÉ ECHEGARAY
El gran Galeoto
The Great Galeoto
The 20th Century
VICENTE BLASCO IBÁÑEZ
La barraca
The Cabin
RAMÓN de VALLE-INCLÁN
Sonata de primavera
Sonata of Spring
PÍO BAROJA
El árbol de la ciencia
The Tree of Knowledge
MIGUEL de UNAMUNO
Niebla
Mist
JACINTO BENAVENTE
Los intereses creados
The Bonds of Interest
ANTONIO MACHADO
Campos de Soria
Fields of Soria
Consejos
Counsels
JUAN RAMÓN JIMÉNEZ
La verdecilla
Green
Nocturno soñado
Dream Nocturne
Quisiera que mi libro
I Would That All My Verses
FEDERICO GARCÍA LORCA
Canción de jinete
Rider's Song
La guitarra
The Guitar
Romance sonámbulo
Somnambule Ballad
BIBLIOGRAPHY
INDEX

Customer Reviews