Born in Fuente Vaqueros, Granada, Spain, June 5 1898; died near Granada, August 19 1936, García Lorca is one of Spain's most deeply appreciated and highly revered poets and dramatists. His murder by the Nationalists at the start of the Spanish civil war brought sudden international fame, accompanied by an excess of political rhetoric which led a later generation to question his merits; after the inevitable slump, his reputation has recovered (largely with a shift in interest to the less obvious works). He must now be bracketed with Machado as one of the two greatest poets Spain has produced in the 20th century, and he is certainly Spain's greatest dramatist since the Golden Age.
Once again, taking off points not because Lorca wasn't brilliant, but because I'm realizing you always lose something translating poetry. Some choices are inevitable, like whether or not you make a sonnet rhyme again or just translate the words (here they went with the latter), other choices are a bit more baffling. But none could detract from Lorca's rich imagery at the end of the day. Note to self: brush up on your Spanish. This is one I gotta revisit.