The Middle Tone
Seldom do we Andalusians notice the ‘middle tone’.
An Andalusian either shouts at the stars or
kisses the red dust of the road. The middle tone
does not exist for him; he sleeps right through it.
Federico García Lorca
Just so I spend my life asleep.
Stars, if there are, might shine above
And dust, dust that I’ve always loved’s
Now dirt at most I lightly sweep.
But cantaor, I too exist.
My middle tone of dung and nectar,
flower and carrion, is a star
that fell, dust I too once kissed.
Reproduced by kind permission of the author and Carcanet.
