Do you have a favorite poem?
One of my favorite poems is the Desiderata by Max Ehrmann. My favourite part in the poem is:
Tú eres una criatura del universo, no menos que los árboles y las estrellas; tienes el derecho a existir....
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars, You have a right to be here.
A favorite line in the poem is:
Además de una disciplina, sé gentil contigo mismo.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
Do you have an inspiring line from a favorite poem that you can share?
17 Answers
I've never been a great lover of poesy but once I got a book from my mom of F. García Lorca. And I loved it! It's probably the only poesy book I have read.
Great thread, strange how I've never came up with an idea to look how my favourite poem of this author sounds in his native language, lol !..
And here's all poem, as it is short -
Dos lunas de tarde
II. A Isabelita, mi hermana
La tarde canta una berceuse a las naranjas.
Mi hermanita canta: La tierra es una naranja.
La luna llorando dice: Yo quiero ser una naranja.
No puede ser, hija mía, aunque te pongas rosada.
Ni siquiera limoncito. ¡Qué lástima!
Now, after forty one years in my job, this poem is very appropriate.
The Road Not Taken By Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
Ahora despues de cuarenta y un años en mi trabajo, éste poema me suena apropriado.
El Camino No Tomado Por Robert Frost
Dos caminos divergían en un bosque amarillo Y pesaroso al no poder viajar por ambos Y ser un solo viajero, largo tiempo me detuve Y escudriñé uno tan lejos como pude Hasta donde se perdía entre la maleza.
Luego tome el otro, también ameno y llano, Y dotado quizás de mayor atractivo, Por su pasto suave que pedía ser hollado, Aun cuando los que por allí pasaran A los dos habrían gastado del mismo modo.
Y ambos esa mañana yacían igualmente Hojas que ningún pisada había ennegrecido. ¡Oh! Seguí el primer camino un día más! Aun sabiendo como un paso sigue a otro paso, Dudé si debía haber regresado sobre mis pasos.
Debo estar diciendo esto con un suspiro En algún lugar, dentro de muchos años: Dos caminos divergían en un bosque, y yo Yo tomé el menos transitado, Y eso ha hecho toda la diferencia.
Wilfred Owen, describing better than anyone in history the horrors of war, and the horrors of propaganda - recounting a moment when a friend got shot and was taken to hospital
(recited from memory)
.....
if you could here at every jolt the blood
Come gargling from the froth corrupted lungs
obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
of vile incurable sores on innocent tongues
(and now the best bit)
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
TO children, ardent for some ancient glory
that great lie, ducle et decorum est
pro patria mori
- latin for, "it is gloroius to die for your country"
On a far lighter note, anyone who has not done so, should read the humorous and interesting short story poem by CS lewis
the walrus and the carpenter.
I once saw the great Salman Rushdie (one of the literary geniuses of all time, for whom english is only a 3rd language) recite the whole poem from memory.
Its very interesting.
My all time favorite is one that is almost pure corn. Had to learn several classics in grade school, Joyce, Longfellow, Kipling and others long forgotten and we had to pick one ourselves. Fourth or fifth grade ... no longer sure. At that time I was so into baseball that I picked the baseball story by Ernest Thayer. Walt Disney must have liked it too, it later became an animated classic.
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day, the score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
wow, running it in my head I can't believe how many stanzas have fallen by the wayside. But enough people know the ending that I don't even have to finish it:
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; But there is no joy in Mudville ....
I believe my favorite line is: **You may fail, but you may conquer**
If we give up too soon we have lost the chance to grow
**See It Through**
When you're up against a trouble,
Meet it squarely, face to face;
Lift your chin and set your shoulders,
Plant your feet and take a brace.
When it's vain to try to dodge it,
Do the best that you can do;
You may fail, but you may conquer,
See it through!
Black may be the clouds about you
And your future may seem grim,
But don't let your nerve desert you;
Keep yourself in fighting trim.
If the worse is bound to happen,
Spite of all that you can do,
Running from it will not save you,
See it through!
Even hope may seem but futile,
When with troubles you're beset,
But remember you are facing
Just what other men have met.
You may fail, but fall still fighting;
Don't give up, whate'er you do;
Eyes front, head high to the finish.
See it through!
--by Edgar A. Guest--
Many songs are poems and one that is high on my list of favorites is the simple:
They say there is a tree in the forest, a tree that will give you a sign.
Come along with me to the Sweetheart Tree, come and carve your name next to mine.
They say if you kiss the right sweetheart, the One you've been waiting for,
big blossoms of white will burst into sight and your love will be true evermore.
Cultivo Una Rosa Blanca (by José Marti -- Cuban)
Cultivo una rosa blanca
En julio como en enero,
Para el amigo sincero
Que me da su mano franca.
.
Y para el cruel que me arranca
El corazon con que vivo,
Cardo ni ortiga cultivo,
Cultivo una rosa blanca.
.
English translation
.
I Cultivate a White Rose
I cultivate a white rose
In July as in January
For the sincere friend
Who gives me his hand frankly.
.
And for the cruel person who tears out
the heart with which I live,
I cultivate neither nettles nor thorns:
I cultivate a white rose.
My favorite Christmas poem is as follows:
Campanas sobre campanas
Campana sobre campana y sobre campanas unas asómate a la ventana verás al Niño en la cuna.
Belén, companas de Belén, que los ángeles tocan ¿qué nueva nos traéis?
Recogido tu rebaño ¿a dónde vas, pastorcito Voy a llevar al portal requesón, manteca y vino
Belén, campanas de Belén que los angeles tocan ¿qué nueva nos traéis?
Bells upon Bells
Bells upon bells have been ringing, bells have been ringing all day long. Come to the window and see the newly born Child in his cradle.
Oh, bells, the bells of Bethlehem, sweet music of the angels, what good news do you bring?
As your sheep are now gathered, where shall you go to, oh shepherd? "To the manager with a gift, cheese and butter from my milkherd."
Oh, bells, the bells of Bethlehem, sweet music of the angels, what good news do you bring?
Merry Navidad: Christmas Carols in Spanish and English by Alma Flor Ada & F. Isabel Campoy
I find the translation isn't exact (cheese line) but it is a nice Christmas poem/carol
"Las Moscas" por Antonio Machado.-It always makes me laugh.
It has been set to music
I particularly like the version performed by Joan Manuel Serrat.(on You Tube)
LAS MOSCAS
Vosotras, las familiares,
inevitables golosas,
vosotras, moscas vulgares,
me evocáis todas las cosas.
¡Oh, viejas moscas voraces
como abejas en abril,
viejas moscas pertinaces
sobre mi calva infantil!
¡Moscas del primer hastío
en el salón familiar,
las claras tardes de estío
en que yo empecé a soñar!
Y en la aborrecida escuela,
raudas moscas divertidas,
perseguidas
por amor de lo que vuela,
—que todo es volar—, sonoras
rebotando en los cristales
en los días otoñales...
Moscas de todas las horas,
de infancia y adolescencia,
de mi juventud dorada;
de esta segunda inocencia,
que da en no creer en nada,
de siempre... Moscas vulgares,
que de puro familiares
no tendréis digno cantor:
yo sé que os habéis posado
sobre el juguete encantado,
sobre el librote cerrado,
sobre la carta de amor,
sobre los párpados yertos
de los muertos.
Inevitables golosas,
que ni labráis como abejas,
ni brilláis cual mariposas;
pequeñitas, revoltosas,
vosotras, amigas viejas,
me evocáis todas las cosas.
Ship me somewhere east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
where there aint no ten commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple bells are callin',an' it's there that i would be-
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin lazy at the sea;
On the road to Mandalay,
where the flyin-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder, outer China ' crost the Bay!
"Mandalay" by Rudyard Kipllng. I read this at the age of 12 yrs and the following is what got me iinterested in Buddhism which has been my lifes joy. -----------------------
Bloomin' Idol made o; mud ----
Wot they called the Great Gawed Budd.
My need at that age to find out who was the Great Gawd Budd', gave me a faith.
Hola,
Este poema es de Oliverio Girondo, poeta nacido en Argentina en 1891.
Enjoy...
Cansancio
Cansado. ¡Sí! Cansado de usar un solo bazo, dos labios, veinte dedos, no sé cuántas palabras, no sé cuántos recuerdos, grisáceos, fragmentarios.
Cansado, muy cansado de este frío esqueleto, tan púdico, tan casto, que cuando se desnude no sabré si es el mismo que usé mientras vivía.
Cansado. ¡Sí! Cansado por carecer de antenas, de un ojo en cada omóplato y de una cola auténtica, alegre, desatada, y no este rabo hipócrita, degenerado, enano.
Cansado, sobre todo, de estar siempre conmigo, de hallarme cada día, cuando termina el sueño, allí, donde me encuentre, con las mismas narices y con las mismas piernas; como si no deseara esperar la rompiente con un cutis de playa, ofrecer, al rocío, dos senos de magnolia, acariciar la tierra con un vientre de oruga, y vivir, unos meses, adentro de una piedra.
Two of Rudyard Kiplings. The first is from the "Just So" books.
I keep six honest serving men,
they taught me all I knew,
Their names were What and Why and When,
and How and Where and Who.
It continues.
I also like "If", which is best known for its last line;
Yours is the Earth and everything in it,
And what is more, you'll be a man my son.
Unable to post links.
Apologies to Rudyard Kipling if I paraphrase slightly.
I like this one:
William Shakespere Soneto 57
Siendo tu esclavo, ¿qué he de hacer sino atender
a las horas de tu deseo y tus demandas?:
ningún precioso tiempo tengo que perder
ni hacer otros recados que los que me mandas.
Ni oso reñirle a la hora inmensamente larga
en que el reloj por ti, mi soberano, miro,
ni llamar la amargura de la ausencia amarga
cuando envías a tu criado de retiro.
Ni aun oso ya indagar con mi razón celosa
dónde andarás ni en qué negocios o solaces,
sino aquí, triste siervo, estar sin pensar cosa
salvo que, donde estés, ¡cuán felices los haces!
Tal loco está hecho amor que nunca en tu cabeza,
hagas tú lo que hagas, pensará él vileza.
Sonnet 57:
Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu;
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love that in your will,
Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.
one of mine
here's a selection from it:
Jacob got sent off to a foreign land
luck of the draw
no aces
now his mother's got a room filled with his favourite things
fistful of worry, heart of open spaces
-JD
La Casada Infiel -------> by Federico Garcia Lorca
Definiendo el amor ----------> Francisco de Quevedo
Amor Eterno -------> By Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer
