145 years have passed since the death of Gustavo Adolfo Becquer. The Sevillian poet, author of RImams and Legends, died on December 22, 1870 after a life full of lights and shadows. On the anniversary of his death we review 10 of his most celebrated verses.
“The dark swallows will return …”, thus begins one of the best known Rhymes of this poet of Romanticism. A man who knew how to capture his many contradictions in his work. In his poems he addresses themes such as dreams and reason, ideas and words, the ideal woman and the carnal woman or the aristocracy and the people.
Bécquer was not only a man of letters, but was closely related to the world of painting. His ability for illustration had an impact on the Becquerian language of some of his works dedicated to art criticism.
On December 10, 1870, months after his brother died and after experiencing a period of lights, the poet fell ill. 12 days later he died at 34 years of tuberculosis. Despite his youth, Bécquer had already achieved some fame, but it was not until the posthumous publication of his works that he became the prestigious author who has survived to this day. one of the greatest Spanish poets of history.
Kiss the aura that moans softly
the slight waves that playing ripples;
the sun kisses the cloud in the west
and shades it with purple and gold;
the flame around the burning log
by kissing another flame slips;
and even the willow tree, leaning under its weight,
to the river that kisses him, return a kiss.
The invisible atoms of the air
Around them they throb and become inflamed;
the sky melts into rays of gold;
the earth trembles with joy;
I hear floating in waves of harmony
murmur of kisses and flapping of wings; my eyelids close … what happens? –
It’s love that passes!
Your pupil is blue and when you laugh
its soft clarity reminds me
the tremulous glow of the morning
that is reflected in the sea.
Your pupil is blue and when you cry
the transparent tears in her
drops of dew appear to me
on a violet.
Your pupil is blue and if deep down
as a point of light radiates an idea
it seems to me in the evening sky
a lost star.
What is poetry ?, you say, while you nail
in my pupil your blue pupil,
What is poetry! Are you asking me that?
You are poetry.
[A ella. No sé…]
For a look, a world;
for a smile, a sky;
for a kiss … I don’t know
what would I give you for a kiss!
A tear appeared in his eyes
and to my lip a phrase of forgiveness;
Pride spoke and wiped away his tears
and the phrase on my lips expired.
I go one way: she, another;
But thinking of our mutual love
I still say, why did I keep quiet that day?
And she will say, why didn’t I cry?
I was not amazed by your forgetfulness! Although one day,
your affection admired me much more;
because what is in me that is worth something,
that … you couldn’t even suspect.
Sighs are air and go to the air.
Tears are water and they go to the sea.
Tell me, woman, when love is forgotten
Do you know where it goes?
Like in an open book
I read from your pupils in the background.
What to pretend the lip
laughter that is denied with the eyes?
Cry! Do not be ashamed
to confess that you loved me a little.
Cry! Nobody looks at us.
You see; I am a man … and I cry too.
The dark swallows will return
their nests to hang on your balcony,
and again with the wing to its crystals
playing they will call.
But those that the flight held back
your beauty and my happiness to contemplate,
those who learned our names …
Those … will not return !.
The bushy honeysuckle will return
from your garden the walls to climb,
and again in the evening even more beautiful
its flowers will open.
But those, curdled with dew
whose drops we watched tremble
and fall like tears of the day …
Those … won’t come back!
They will return from the love in your ears
the fiery words to sound;
your heart from its deep sleep
maybe it will wake up.
But dumb and absorbed and on my knees
as God is worshiped before his altar, …
as I have loved you …; get off the hook,
Well … they won’t love you!