¿Cual es tu poema favorito?
Muchas veces faltamos en reconocer el arte que existe detras de cada poema. Para mi, el poema mas interesante y mas conmovedor es "En tanto que de rosa y azucena" de Gracielo de la vega. ¿Cual te gusta a ti, y porque?
19 Answers
Spanish dict's a blast,
It helps learn spanish fast
When in doubt
Don't give out
Put ignorance in the past
There is a small translator
For words like Alligator
it's even for phrases
yet it still amazes
those who'll "use it later"
So when in the forum
and out of sheer boredom,
I do ask one tiny thing...
Don't ask simple words,
Like cars, or even birds,
Don't ask how to say
what is the way?
When in the tap of a key,
you can have words for free
to go on a learning spree 
A man was under
A bolt of thunder
As he shelterd 'neath a tree.
What terrible luck-The lightening struck
And burned his riddle-me-ree !
"Spike"
This is my favourite because it was the first poem I learned in Spanish and started me off translating stuff.
Here's my translation.
Annabel Lee
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Edgar Allan Poe
And also Rabbi Ben Ezra by Browning, which begins:
Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in His hand
Who saith "A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!"
Not that, amassing flowers,
Youth sighed, "Which rose make ours,
Which lily leave and then as best recall!"
Not that, admiring stars,
It yearned "Nor Jove, nor Mars;
Mine be some figured flame which blends, transcends them all!"
Not for such hopes and fears
Annulling youth's brief years,
Do I remonstrate: folly wide the mark!
Rather I prize the doubt
Low kinds exist without,
Finished and finite clods, untroubled by a spark.
. . .
Then if my poetry is all of me
My poetry then shall I be,
No more broken and awry,
Cold and lonely sad of eye,
A bold dashing laughing lad
Strong and happy never sad,
My poem writ with me in mind
Is of a boy I cannot find
I met him once in another place
another time with another face.
My poem now is all of me
A poem is all I shall ever be.
This evening in the twilight's bloom,
A butterfly flew in my room
Oh what beauty,oh what grace
who needs visitors from outer space?
Esta tarde en flor la luz del crepúsculo
Una mariposa voló en mi habitación
Oh, qué belleza, oh, qué gracia
¿Quién necesita un visitante del espacio exterior?
Spike de nuevo.
¿Qué es poesía?, dices mientras clavas
en mi pupila tu pupila azul.
¡Qué es poesía! ¿Y tú me lo preguntas?
Poesía eres tú.
Translation 1
What is poetry ?, you ask, while nailing
your blue gaze into mine.
What is poetry ? You ask it ?
Poetry... that's you.
Translation 2 (less literal)
You ask me: "What is poetry?"
Staring at me with eyes so blue.
Poetry! And you ask me!
Why ... poetry is you.
*Since we met a game goes on
I make a move and you respond.
You think it’s funny
You think your winning,
But take a look now
And see how
I have brought things to this place
So we both can be here.*
Anon
Persian about 600 years ago.
I see said the blind man to his deaf wife.
As he picked up his hammer and saw.
===
Veo dijo el hombre ciegos
Como tomó la sierra
Me thinks it loses something in the translation. 
Entirely
If we could get the hang of it entirely It would take too long; All we know is the splash of words in passing and falling twigs of song, And when we try to eavesdrop on the great Presences it is rarely That by a stroke of luck we can appropriate Even a phrase entirely.
If we could find our happiness entirely In somebody else's arms We should not fear the spears of the spring nor the city's Yammering fire alarms But, as it is, the spears each year go through Our flesh and almost hourly Bell or siren banishes the blue Eyes of Love entirely.
And if the world were black or white entirely And all the charts were plain Instead of a mad weir of tigerish waters, A prism of delight and pain, We might be surer where we wished to go Or again we might be merely Bored but in the brute reality there is no Road that is right entirely.
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963)
I love this poem because it discusses the ambiguity of life.
Behold, Behold,
the Lamb of God
As it skips and hops,
I know that soon The Lamb of God
Will be the Lamb of Chops.
He aquí, he aquí,
el Cordero de Dios
Como se salta y salta,
Sé que pronto el Cordero de Dios
Será el Cordero de chuletas.
And Spike once more.
Hey, diddle, diddle!
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon
The little dog laughed
To see such sport,
And the dish ran away with the spoon.
=====
Oye, ysoden. ysoden
el gato y el violín
la vaca salto sobre la luna
el perrito reído
Ver el deporte
y el plato se escapó con la cuchara
No puedo contarlo en este foro. Me gustan los limericks.
I can't say it on this forum. I like limericks.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make the thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
Rudyard Kiping.
I don't write poetry and I don't always read it, but sometimes those words straight from the heart are better than anything else for getting your points and feelings across in such a remarkable way. It is very magical and I appreciate the poems from the talented and thoughtful people in this thread.
Our SD family is very talented in many wonderful ways. We are so blessed to have you all.
Now, if I could only write a poem.....
