Romance de la luna, luna

The moon came to the forge
with her bustle [lit. "polisón": a crinoline bustle-skirt] of nard blossoms [lit. "nardos": spikenard/tuberose flowers].
The boy looks at her, looks at her.
The boy is gazing at her.
In the stirred [lit. "conmovido": moved/troubled/stirred with emotion] air
the moon moves her arms
and shows, lascivious and pure,
her breasts of hard tin.
Flee, moon, moon, moon.
If the gypsies [lit. "gitanos": Romani people; Lorca's word carries specific Andalusian cultural weight] were to come,

they would make with your heart
necklaces and white rings.
Child, let me dance.
When the gypsies come,
they will find you on the anvil
with your little eyes closed.
Flee, moon, moon, moon,
for already I feel their horses.
Child, let me be, do not tread on
my starched whiteness.
The horseman was drawing near
beating the drum of the plain [lit. "tambor del llano": the drumming sound of hooves across flat land].
Inside the forge the boy
has his eyes closed.

Through the olive grove they were coming,
bronze and dream [lit. "bronce y sueño": bronze-skinned and dream-like; a compressed image], the gypsies.
Their heads held high
and their eyes half-closed.
How the tawny owl [lit. "zumaya": the little owl or nightjar; a bird of ill omen in Andalusian folklore] sings,
ah, how it sings in the tree!
Through the sky goes the moon
with a child by the hand.
Inside the forge the gypsies weep,
crying out, shouting.
The air watches over her [lit. "vela": to keep vigil/watch over/guard], watches over her.
The air is keeping vigil over her.