It is not a work of art that one can read for "a good story", but rather, you have to let it wash over you, paying attention to all the ima This play always puzzles me, despite the regularity of its themes--love and death. It is not a work of art that one can read for "a good story", but rather, you have to let it wash over you, paying attention to all the imagery and "acotaciones". The "Letras hispanicas" edition is remarkably thorough in its footnotes regarding variations in the text which was never really finalized; however, the constant notation of every variable destabilizes the reading itself, not to mention the very enjoyment of the text.
It's a shame that something so useful can also be so distracting. Jan 30, Mandy. Lorca me tiene acostumbrada a obras de sobresaliente. Si bien es cierto que probablemente esta obra c Lorca me tiene acostumbrada a obras de sobresaliente. Not an easy work to interpret, but so beautiful it hardly matters.
I should issue some kind of warning about exactly how avant-garde the work is, with the dead bodies of a ghost and a child appearing on stage and even conversing, among other strange events. Definitely not a work for someone who prefers a clear-cut, linear plot development. Theatre artists who love Lorca's poetry but could go without another staging of the Three Tragedies. I loved the surrealist piece Once Five Years Pass -- it's plot is troublesome but has fabulous staging potential.
That said, if you go out and stage it without asking me to direct I will be sad. Also read El Publico! Lorca's theatre is so much more than tortured women in the countryside. Oh Time travels on over Dream, sunk in it up to its hair. And yesterday and tomorrow eat the shadowy flowers of despair. Aug 26, Jesse rated it it was amazing. One of my absolute favorite works by Lorca. Sandra rated it really liked it Nov 26, Com rated it liked it Mar 05, Vanora Miranda rated it it was amazing Sep 13, Marcosgdp rated it it was amazing Jul 18, Aide Ep rated it it was amazing May 14, Domi rated it it was amazing Nov 23, Aje Candelaria rated it it was amazing Dec 05, Pedro Molina rated it really liked it Sep 09, There are no reviews for the current version of this product Refreshing There are no reviews for previous versions of this product.
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When I begin to think of her…. I draw her; I sculpt her—white and warm; then, suddenly, her nose changes or her teeth begin to crack, and she turns into someone else. Who has she become? What we dream changes faster than what we recognize below our foreheads. Water coming toward us down the river is completely different from the water that flows on passed us.
Who can recall the details on a map of the desert sands…or, for that matter, the face of a friend? The last time I saw her, I could hardly look at her because she had two little wrinkles on her forehead. If she is fifteen, she could just as well be fifteen sunsets or fifteen skies. That is why we are not going to go, why we are going to wait.
For the alternative is to die—right now. And it is better to dwell on the future as if it were a hundred golden horns lifting the sun like a curtain until it bursts through the clouds. Taking his hand Thank you!
When Five Years Pass review at Arcola London
Thank you for everything! What reasons are there? There is only one, and that is…I love you! I have always loved you. When he was little, I used to watch him at play from my balcony. One day he fell down and his knee bled. Well, that blood remains alive like a red snake between my breasts. So, is that my fault?! I wish to leave this house now. You know perfectly well that I belong to another. You may leave anytime you wish to. If only I could. And even if you could, what would you do tomorrow? Who was the old guy? So where are the pictures of the girls you sleep with then?
And what am I supposed to do there? Whatever you rant on about? Stretching out; groaning Ayyyyyy! I was with a girl…Ernestina. Would you like to meet her? No, Mathilde has a much better one, but, then again… Impulsively My God! I have no time, no time for anything. Because, just think on it: I never have enough time, and I feel bad for it. I was supposed to go out with this ugly woman, you know? Laughing So ugly…but adorable. A dark passionate woman. And, besides, I like her because she is like a trainer of stallions.
A woman can be very ugly and still be a beautiful trainer of stallions, and vice versa, and…who knows? They fight… It has a sexuality in it. I am going to forget my hat… Mumbling I mean…I have forgotten my hat. What happens outside is not important. But inside this house is mine, and no one gets in here. Passionately The entire world can enter, not here, but under your bed. The lights dim and a blue storm light washes over the scene.
The three characters go behind a black screen covered with stars. The BOY is dressed in white, as though for his first communion, with a crown of white roses on his head. His face is like wax and his eyes and his lily-dry lips stand out against it. He holds an ornate candle with a giant golden bow.
The CAT is blue with two large bloodstains on its gray chest and head. Oh, such terrible noise outside. If only you could have seen it…! They laid me out. The hand returns and takes the fainting BOY off. When the BOY disappears, the light returns to normal. They are hot and agitated. His mother is crying. The children have killed a cat and thrown it onto the awning in the garden. It needs to be removed. You think I can break through a brick wall and destroy everything in my path without hurting people. I prefer to eat it green, or better still, to snip the blossom of the flower and wear it in my lapel.
Severely All my life, I have fought to light a lamp in the corners of darkness. And if anyone ever tried to break the neck of a dove, I stopped him and helped the bird escape. He is dressed all in white: Any way you wish. Two children—friends of mine—helped me by lifting me up by my feet. I met them when I was very little. The same beautiful way it poured this same time last year. There was so little light that my hands turned yellow. Rain can be beautiful. At school it would get into the patios and make the tiny naked women who live in raindrops appear against the walls.
Have you never seen them? When I was five years…no, when I was two…, not true!
When Five Years Pass by Federico García Lorca
I caught one of those tiny rain women and kept her for two days inside a fishbowl. She got smaller, younger, just like she should, as was right, until there was nothing left of her but a single drop of water. And she recited a poem:. Just now, when I came in, I saw a boy about to be buried with the first drops of rain.
In a coffin that small. Covers his face with his hands. Emphatically and on the defensive Houses do not sink into the earth. Undaunted The eyes grow dim and a razor-sharp mower cuts down the reeds along the banks of the river. Serenely But of course! Much more time will pass before any of that happens! Looking at his hands What an ugly light.
Turn of the century bedroom. The walls are painted with clouds and angels. Agitated honking of a car horn is heard. At the balcony Climb up! I need you to hold me. He just smokes his cigars. Your kiss seems different today, my love. But not as handsome as you; you are a dragon. Her hands roving over his body Behind all this darkness is a maze of silver bridges stretching over me and sheltering me like a tiny little bee that has suddenly entered the throne room. Rests her head on his chest. How many hearts have you claimed?
I drown in the raging river of your breast. Kissing him Such white coals. Such ivory fire pouring out from your teeth! When he kissed me with those lips of death, tiny withered leaves would sprout there. I cut off my braids because they pleased him, the same as I go barefoot because you like me to. An old man wearing glasses. They were having a terrible row. Think about what you are doing! The world is large. But people like us are small. My father was in Brazil twice…and he was so small he fit into a suitcase. Things can be forgotten, but the bad is always remembered.
A man so good! With so much hope. Having waited so long. And he crushed my rings between my fingers until they bled. But with a jasmine collar at the neck and my entire body wrapped tightly in a veil made damp by the sea. Yes, I thought he was right. The young man loved her so much. When I broke off with the bellboy…. You broke off with the bellboy? But he was so handsome…, so handsome…, so handsome…! I want it to.
I want to turn black. As dark as a boy, and not bleed if I fall down and not get hurt if I pick blackberries. Everyone is walking as if they were on a tightrope with their eyes closed. I want to have my feet planted firmly on the ground.
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Last night I dreamt that little children grow up by chance and that the power of a kiss can kill them all. A knife, a pair of scissors lasts forever but my breast only lasts a little while. Secretly Pack all of my colored dresses in a traveling case. He has the appearance of being fragile and myopic.
Distracted, he has a pair of binoculars around his neck. You wrote him the whole five years we were travelling. The earth and the sea existed, but I slept sweetly against the bolsters on the train. The man will insult me with good reason. It was all arranged. And what about me? What are we to do with the man?
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Everyone is against me. He looks up at the sky The eclipse is about to start. It will be so beautiful! They have extinguished the street lamps. Why did you mislead him? He smoothes his hair. As he enters, the stage lights bump up. The three characters stand motionless, looking at each other.
Looking at him squarely and without pulling her hand away Yes. And also…in the street below, I had to keep a group of children from killing a cat with stones. And a lifeless gaze. A gaze that splits in two like the wings of a dried butterfly. Then it must have been the light of the moon. It must have been the wind shaped into lips to kiss your head. The MAID moves to a corner. Then what are you doing here with me? She slaps him hard My hands were covered with rings.
Where is there a drop of blood? I am the one who wants to burn in a different fire. There is no fire but mine. Embraces her Because I waited for you and I now win my dream. And your braids are not a dream because I shall weave them myself with your hair. And your waist, where my blood will sing, is not a dream because I will slowly earn it through the flowing of my rain. And so, the dream is mine. Pulling away Let go of me! You could have said anything but dream. Here, no one dreams. I hear the cry of a child pursuing me even in the mirrors and in the lace on the bed.
But my house is built. With walls formed with my own hands. Who will live there, the wind? So you will come! At this very moment their breeze burns on my skin. It should have started by now. What am I to do with it? Where am I to go? The lights dim, taking on a blue aura.
From the balconies moonlight enters which increases in intensity to the end of the act. She has a gray face with lips and eyebrows gilded like a mannequin in a chic store window. Appearing very agitated, he carries a silk handkerchief Yes! For the woman who loves me. Forest of huge tree trunks. In the center of the stage is a large video screen. His head looks like a skull. He laughs in great bursts.
Adopting a circus barker posture and calling off as if desiring the boy to hear And now! To Audience Good day to you! The hunting horns are heard. In addition, she wears a long cape made out of a single layer of gauze. She is accompanied by the MASK who wears a bright yellow dress with a long train, circa The upper bodice of the dress is covered with golden sequins.
The MASK has long hair of yellow silk falling like a mantle, a plaster-white mask and elbow-length white gloves. On her head is a yellow hat. The effect is that of a sudden flame seen against a background of the blue moon. She speaks with a slight Italian accent. I had to leave his house.
There was a terrible summer storm that afternoon and the son of the concierge died. When I entered the library, he said: And when I crossed to the door, he said: He always stayed up all night to see if I would make an appearance at the window. But…I watched him through the cracks…perfectly still…such powerful eyes! In the foyer of the Opera de Paris are enormous balustrades that open onto the sea.
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Count Arturo, with a camilia between his lips, would arrive in a small boat with his boy — the two having been abandoned by me. But I drew the curtains closed and threw them a diamond.
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What sweet torment, dear friend! Crying The Count and his boy went hungry and slept among branches with a greyhound that had been given to me by a Russian nobleman. Energized supplication Can you spare a tiny scrap of bread for me? Can you spare a tiny scrap of bread for my son? For the boy Count Arturo left to die in the frost…? Arturo will also be later, right away. On his right hand he has a scar where he was cut with a dagger…, over me, so it happens. Holding out her hand Can you see it?
Pointing to her neck And another here, see? How could I be without wounds? Whose are the wounds of my count? So let us be happy! When I was little, I used to save candies to eat them later. Emphatically The poet, Virgil, constructed a fly out of gold, and all the flies that had poisoned the air in Naples dropped dead: Entering from the opposite direction; laughing And where is that?
Irritated Would you please tell me what kind of joke this is? I was on my way to my house, I mean, not to my house; to another house to—. Cheerfully To look for?
On a video screen we see a miniature version of the library in Act I but in softer tones. At this very moment I have finished with the Count forever. JUAN is seen crossing in front of the other video characters—on point as always. To the video image of Juan If the master comes, let him in. On the small stage, passionately Are you happy here? I would die without you. Where would I go if you left me? No other exists for me but you, because you love me.
He carries a large, bloodstained handkerchief. He alternately holds it to his chest and to his face. He appears to be very disturbed as he watches with rapt attention all that happens in the video. But now I have you with me. Voice over A little light for my son! He presses his face against the glass of my heart, but he can get no air! With authority and precision Have you written the letters?
You wanted to leave, but, at the same time expected me to love you. I knew you would never love me. But I offered my love to you anyway and changed you, and I have seen you in the corners of my house.