#spanish poetry
feral-ballad · a month ago
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Pedro Salinas, tr. by Ruth Katz Crispin, from Memory in My Hands: The Love Poetry of Pedro Salinas; “The voice I owe to you”
[Text ID: “I don’t need time to know / what you are like: we knew / each other like lightning.”]
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fawnaura · a year ago
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Miguel Hernández, tr. by Don Share, from Poems of War (1936–1939); “Hunger,”
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ffferite · 5 months ago
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Erich Fried, È quel che è (Einaudi)
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ecc-poetry · 3 months ago
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sin hogar / in this house
elisa chavez
Todo el mundo merece una casa
pero no quieres pagarla.
¡Qué caro es el camino alto!
Tu insistes: ningún cambio sin reembolso.
Pues sí, ¡tiremos la persona!
¿sabes qué elles cuestan demasiado, con sus recursos
y uñas sucias? vale, creo que lo sucio
es tus locuras: son tu sagrado, tu biblia; envías los versos
a la alcaldesa apuñaladas con miles agujas.
Creo que es más fácil culpar le desdichade que abrir la billetera las setenta veces siete de Jesús.
Creo que inventas monstruos
y les das las caras de vecines.
In this house we believe:
we've paid enough.
What about mismanagement?
Lying is illegal, and so is sitting down.
Trees are people too.
Loaves and fishes are nonrenewable resources.
That's just science, unless it's social science.
Alert for young single women: Men with the faces of dogs have been spotted in the park,
Men stuck with needles go door to door selling magazines. They let themselves in, flay my flatscreen in half, machete me and drink blood from my porcelain lungs, police say there's nothing they can do. A hole in the road has gained sentience and gravels my mouth while I sleep. My neighbors applaud, wokefully ringing my bed. Wake up! The city is dying!
The apartment blocks are maggot-ridden, wobbling with braids of concrete, their windows are packed full of bodies with limbs fused to bone looking for handouts desecrating and their teeth noise complaint and their self-respect rotting in piles and the teeth say it's time to make neighbors of you all.
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cleopatrachampagne · 4 days ago
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“en un beso, sabrás todo lo que he callado”
in one kiss, you will know all i have left unsaid
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bones-ivy-breath · 8 months ago
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I by Pablo Neruda (tr. W.S. Merwin), from Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
Text ID:
To survive myself I forged you like a weapon, like an arrow in my bow, like a stone in my sling.
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nelapanela94 · 7 months ago
Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter. Do not take away the rose, the lance flower that you pluck, the water that suddenly bursts forth in joy, the sudden wave of silver born in you. My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired at times from having seen the unchanging earth, but when your laughter enters it rises to the sky seeking me and it opens for me all the doors of life. My love, in the darkest hour your laughter opens, and if suddenly you see my blood staining the stones of the street, laugh, because your laughter will be for my hands like a fresh sword. Next to the sea in the autumn, your laughter must raise its foamy cascade, and in the spring, love, I want your laughter like the flower I was waiting for, the blue flower, the rose of my echoing country. Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon, laugh at the twisted streets of the island, laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you, but when I open my eyes and close them, when my steps go, when my steps return, deny me bread, air, light, spring, but never your laughter for I would die.
-Your laughter, Pablo Neruda
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adhd-languages · 8 months ago
Write Poetry in your Target Language!
Poetry doesn’t need to have perfect grammar, at all.
Practice using vocabulary in context
It’s a fun and engaging way to practice
Your slightly broken way of speaking sounds intentional and artsy in poetry.
Learn more and think more about language nuances
You can learn more vocabulary naturally, based on what you want or need to know
Reblog with yours if you make any 👁👁
(Remember, poetry doesn’t need to rhyme, although you can try that for a bit of a challenge)
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kairos-thehumanpoet · 11 months ago
it's not really the
bigger things in life
that make things better,
but the tiny, teeny,
intricate trinkets that we
weave into the memories
kept, called small moments.
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babyshewalksinbeauty · 2 months ago
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feral-ballad · a month ago
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Pedro Salinas, tr. by Ruth Katz Crispin, from Memory in My Hands: The Love Poetry of Pedro Salinas; “The voice I owe to you”
[Text ID: “and the longing / to love, to love you, more.”]
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fawnaura · a year ago
The more I look inside myself, the more I mourn: Cut out this pain? With what shears?
Miguel Hernández, tr. by Don Share, from Early Poems (1934–1936); “I Have Lots of Heart”
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ffferite · 5 months ago
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Erich Fried, È quel che è
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ecc-poetry · a year ago
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la verdad / despair
elisa chavez
Te amo como una promesa rota—
u okey, como la crush mía del séptimo grado,
u, okey, como la carnada con el anzuelo,
vale, vale, como 172 mujeres mártires. Como amnesia. Como la llamada sin respuesta, como la fruta en mi jardín que nunca puedo tocar—
tus labios esculpiendo "yo a ti."
I love you like a broken brother—
or okay, like my best friend from seventh grade,
or, okay, like a carnation in a buttonhole,
or okay, okay, like 172 episodes of SVU. Like ammunition. Like the last sin on my resume, like a shimmering fish I can't ever catch—
I know
how to love someone who can't love me back.
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esuemmanuel · 11 months ago
No se puede evitar lo inevitable,
me es imposible no sentirte, no pensarte…
Hacer a un lado el anhelo por tenerte, por tocarte…
por llevarte de la mano a esos cielos
que solo a ti puedo mostrarte.
Y me pesa, me pesa mucho no mirarte…
Mis ojos viven por amarte,
por revolcarse en los colores de tu arte,
de tu chispa, de tus disparates…
Eres tú, sólo tú, la que puede apresarme,
la que puede hacer de mi corazón
el lienzo de sus breves instantes;
esos llenos de vida, de amor, de anhelo…
de caricia y tormento, de luna y sol…
de locura y sosiego.
Eres tú, sólo tú, la intención de mi lengua y garganta,
de mis manos y dedos…
de este infierno que me mata
cuando al silencio me aferro,
mientras me pinto los labios
de todo lo que te quiero.
You can't avoid the inevitable,
it's impossible for me not to feel you, not to think about you...
To set aside the longing to have you, to touch you...
to take you by the hand to those skies that I can show only to you.
And it weighs on me, it weighs on me a lot not to look at you...
My eyes live to love you, to wallow in the colours of your art,
of your sparkle, of your nonsense...
It is you, only you, who can capture me,
who can make my heart the canvas of its brief instants;
those full of life, of love, of longing...
of caress and torment, of moon and sun...
of madness and calm.
It is you, only you, the intention of my tongue and throat,
of my hands and fingers...
of this hell that kills me when I cling to silence,
while I paint my lips with all that I love you.
— Esu Emmanuel©️
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con-alas-de-angeles · 11 months ago
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The Selected Poems of Federico García Lorca
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quay-writes-poetry · 8 months ago
Mi amor, no es que no cuidar para ti..
De hecho.. Quería darte el mundo, pero durante mi intento para hacerlo me olvide darte mi tiempo. Y así es cómo perdimos amor... un momento olividado tras otro.
My love, it’s not that I didnt care about you..
In fact.. I wanted to give you the world, but during my attempt to do it I forgot to give you my time. And this is how we lose love... one forgotten moment after another.
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nelapanela94 · 7 months ago
When I was little, I met a girl with big black eyes.
We would go to class together and she would always look at me,
but I never said anything to her because I was very shy.
One day, when I came back from break, she had left a little paper airplane on top of my desk.
I looked at her, she was already looking at me and smiled, but I never said anything to her because I was very shy.
But the second day she had left two little paper airplanes.
I looked at her again, she smiled at me again, but nothing, I still couldn't say anything to her.
On the third day? On the third day the desk was full of paper airplanes.
The class? The classroom was full of paper airplanes.
The school? The school was full of paper airplanes.
So I had no choice but to look for her, and I looked for her and when I found her I asked her:
"Why? Why do you give me so many paper airplanes?" .
And she answered me:
"Because you... You are my sky."
"Avioncitos de papel", by Jairo Anibal Niño
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eloquentiasagitta · 5 months ago
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El amor te deprimirá.
Love will get you down.
Specialist (2002)
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horchiquitita · a month ago
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Poem by me, D.Z.C
Poem about those last moments with yourself on your death bed.
Poema sobre esos últimos momentos con ti mismo en tu cama donde mueres poco a poco.
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