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Oct 22, 2023 · Rafael Alberti, (1902-1999) is regarded as one of the major Spanish poets of the 20th century.His first two collections, A Sailor Ashore, and Whitewash and Song recall the sea and landscapes of his native region of Andalusia.
- With gentle red assaults, Dawn, I was granting you names:
- Search, search for them:
- For you I left my woods, my lost
- Today, the clouds brought me,
- The flowery shoulders now in the snow
- My Roe Deer
- My roe deer, dear friend,
- Why look so serious, dear road?
- What more do you need?
- Go, drinking fields and cities,
- The dove was wrong.
- If my voice dies on land,
- If I was born a farmhand,
- Above the still moon of a mirror,
- Eternity may well
- The Collegiate Angels
- None of us understood the secret darkness of the blackboards
- Black bull, nostalgic for wounds,
- Shade, I invite you to the air,
- sell clouds of colours,
- In the afternoon, ascending
Mistaken dream, Angel without exit, Falsehood of rain in the trees. At the edges of my soul, that recalls the rivers, Indecisive, hesitant, still. Spilt star, Confused light weeping, Glass without voice? No. Error of snow in water, is your name.
In the insomnia of forgotten conduits In gutters blocked by the muteness of litter. Not far from the pools incapable of retaining a cloud, lost eye broken ring Or a trampled star. For I’ve seen them: In the rubble momentarily appearing in the mist. For I’ve touched them: In the exile of a defunct brick, Come to naught from a tower or a cart, No lon...
Grove, my sleepless dogs, My important years, those banished Almost to my life’s winter. left a tremor, a shock A brilliance of un-extinguished fire, left my shadow on the desperate Blood-stained eyes of farewell. left sad doves beside a river, Horses in the sand of the arena, left the scent of the sea, I left to see you. For you, I left everything...
In flight, the map of Spain. How small over the river, How vast over the meadow The shadow that it cast! It was full of horses The shadow that it cast. on horseback, for its shade, Sought my village and my home. went into the yard that once Was a fount of water. Though it was not a fount The fount sounded forever. And water that did not flow Retur...
And the ivory tresses in the wind. Dead water in the brow, the pensive Tinted halo of the moon when it rains. Oh what a clamour in the brief breast; What a palm in air the solitary breath, What a floe caught in the firmament, The bare foot, with the courage to die! Arms of the sea, crossed, on the frozen Salver of night; cold breasts, From which, r...
‘On Avila, my eyes...’ XVth Century (Mi corza, buen amigo)
My white roe deer. The wolves slew her In the depths of the water. The wolves, dear friend, That fled across the river. The wolves slew her deep in the water.
You have four grey mules, horse in front, carriage with green wheels, And the road, All to yourself, Dear road.
(Note: Peñaranda de Duero is a village in the province of Burgos)
Transformed to a great deer of water, Be the ocean of bright dawns, The kingfisher’s nest on the waves. That I might go on hoping for you, deadened, A done reed, in the high solitudes, Wounded by the air, and needing Your voice, alone among the storms. Leave me to write, frail cold reed, My name in the running water, Let the wind cry, solitary, ri...
The dove was mistaken. To travel north she flew south, Believing the wheat was water. Believing the sea was sky, That the night was dawn. That the stars were dew, That the heat was snowfall. Your skirt your blouse, Your heart your home. (She fell asleep on the shore, You at the tip of a branch.)
Carry it down to the sea, And leave it there on the shore. Carry it down to the sea, And appoint it the captain Of a white man of war. Oh my voice adorned With naval insignia, An anchor over my heart, And over the anchor a star, And above the star the wind, And above the wind a sail!
If I was born a sailor, Why do I have to be here, If it’s not where I want to be? On the finest day, city Which I have ever sought, The finest day – silence! – I’ll have disappeared.
I praise a fraternal circle Of green pines, red with old gold, Transfiguration of the king of day. Tender silver, starved of reflection, Dies now. From the glass – cold plate – Speaks the voice of agonized moisture: – Sun has gilded my tongue, why complain? The gates of its setting, now closed, Shroud the fields in mourning. Black curs Growl, at wh...
Be only a river Be a forgotten horse And the cooing Of a lost dove. As for the man who distances Himself from men, the wind comes Telling him other things now Opening his ears And eyes to other things. Today, I distanced myself from men, And alone, in this gully, I began to gaze at the river, And saw a horse all alone, And listened all lonely To th...
(Ninguno comprendíamos el secreto nocturno de las pizarras)
Nor why the armillary sphere seemed so remote when we looked. We only knew a circumference can be other than round That an eclipse of the moon confuses flowers, And advances the timing of birds. None of us understood a thing; Nor why our fingers were made of India ink And afternoon closed compasses for dawn to open books. We only knew that a straig...
Charging your watery landscape, Examining letters and luggage, On those trains that run to arenas. What do you dream in your dreams, What hidden longings redden the journey, What systems of watering and drainage Rehearse your plunge in the sea? Nostalgia for the man with a sword, For gangrene and femoral blood; Not even your keeper denies you. Hurt...
Shade of twenty centuries, To the truth of air, Of air, of air, of air. Shadow that never left Your cavern, or to earth Returned a jot of that sound, That at birth brought you air Of air, of air, of air. Shade without light, delving For the profundities Of twenty tombs, twenty Hollow centuries without air, Of air, of air, of air. Shade, to the summ...
Ellipses, reddened To temper the heat! sell purple cirrus, And pink, dawns And golden sunsets! The yellow star Of the heavenly peach Caught in the green branches, I sell the snow, the flame, And the song of the crier.
In the evening, in descending, I want to tread the blue Snow of Jacaranda. Is blue afternoon, ahead? Is that lilac night, behind me? I want to tread the blue Snow of Jacaranda. If the sombre bird should sing, Let its blue be that blue, I want to tread the blue Snow of Jacaranda. If the blackbird warbles, Let his warbling be lilac, I want to tread t...
Rafael Alberti Merello (16 December 1902 – 28 October 1999) was a Spanish poet, a member of the Generation of '27. He is considered one of the greatest literary figures of the so-called Silver Age of Spanish Literature, and he won numerous prizes and awards. He died aged 96.
Rafael Alberti Merello (16 December 1902 – 28 October 1999) was a Spanish poet, a member of the Generation of '27. [1] He is considered one of the greatest literary figures of the so-called Silver Age of Spanish Literature, [2] and he won numerous prizes and awards. He died aged 96.
Oct 10, 2011 · Selected poems by Alberti, Rafael, 1902-; Belitt, Ben, 1911- , ed. and tr. Publication date 1966 Publisher ... English and Spanish Access-restricted-item true
Rafael Alberti. Háblame del mar marinero. Dicen que hay toros azules en la primavera del mar. El sol es el caporal y las mantillas las nubes, que las mueve el temporal. Dicen que hay toros azules en la primavera del mar. Háblame del mar, marinero. Dime si es verdad lo que dicen de él.
Spanish poet Rafael Alberti reading from his work Summary Mr. Alberti reads nineteen poems from his collected volume, Sobre los ángeles, including Paraíso perdido, Desahucio, and El cuerpo deshabitado. Contributor Names Alberti, Rafael, 1902-1999.
