25 poems by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer.

A fascinating and captivating collection of poems by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer.

A fascinating and captivating collection of poems by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer.

Gustavo Adolfo Becquer is one of the best poets in the world. His works have been internationally acclaimed and he is considered Spain's national poet. Renowned Spanish poet wrote mostly love poems. He often used simple language with a rhythm that made his poems easy to read and memorize.

22 de May de 2022

Gustavo Adolfo Becquer In Seville Gustavo Adolfo Becquer In Seville


Becquert’s childhood

His father (José Domínguez Bécquer) died in 1841. During this time, Bécquer was abandoned by his mother (Joaquina Bastida) in an orphanage at an early age. He lost his father at the age of five and his mother died six years later.

After the death of his parents, his life was greatly compensated by the love he received from the rest of his family, especially from his godmother, Manuela Moneja Moreno, and by Becker’s permanent activity in painting, writing and music.

Gustavo began his education at the Abad de San Antonio School. In 1846 he enrolled as a student at the Colegio de San Telmo. He spent a few months in Toledo with his godmother, Manuela Monnehay Moreno, and his uncle Joaquin Dominguez Becquer.

He was also sent to a private school for boys in Toledo, where he was a serious case of tuberculosis, the disease first appearing in 1857. Bécquer began to flirt with letters and rhymes and write short stories about his life.

Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer Born in Seville


Born in Seville on February 17, 1836.
. Spanish poet who wrote mainly love poetry and is considered one of the greatest Spanish poets of all time. Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer is a great example of a poet who used his craft to explore the human condition. His work is often described as tragic and existentialist, with themes of loneliness and isolation. Bécquer’s poetry was largely inspired by nature, especially the countryside near his home in Seville, and his most influential work is one known to all: “Poemas y Leyendas” which is highly recommended for any lover of the genre.

His real name was Gustavo Adolfo Claudio Domínguez Bastida. As his father’s third surname, Bécquer, came from a Flemish ancestor, he used it to sign his writings.

What is Bécquer’s most famous poem?

His most famous work is undoubtedly Rhymes and Legends, a compilation of his poems and stories. Today, the latter is considered one of the classic and must-read works of Hispanic literature.

And the most famous poem by the poet Bécquer is the acclaimed Rima LII (Volverán las oscuras golondrinas) (The dark swallows will return).

Rima LII

The dark swallows will return
on your balcony their nests to hang,
and again with the wing to its crystals
playing will call.

But those whose flight restrained
your beauty and my happiness to contemplate,
those who learned our names,
those… they won’t come back!

The dense honeysuckles will return
of your garden walls to climb
and again in the evening even more beautiful
its flowers will open.

But those curds of dew
whose drops we watched tremble
and fall like tears of the day….
those… they won’t come back!

They will return from love in your ears
the fiery words to sound,
your heart from its deep sleep
maybe he will wake up.

But mute and absorbed and on his knees,
as one worships God before his altar,
as I have loved you…, be disenchanted,
they won’t want you that way!

25 Poems by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer

Below we have chosen the best poems and rich rhymes of Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer: 25 great poems of Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer, which are undoubtedly very interesting and full of romanticism.

1. Rhyme XXV

When the night envelops you

The tulle wings of sleep

and your eyelashes

look like ebony arches,

for listening to the beats

of your restless heart

and recline your sleeping

head on my chest,

I would say, my soul,

all that I own,

the light, the air

and thought!

When your eyes are fixed

in an invisible object

and your lips illuminate

the reflection of a smile,

for reading on your forehead

the quiet thought

passing like a cloud

of the sea on the wide mirror,

I would say, my soul,

as much as I wish,

fame, gold,

the glory, the genius!

When your tongue goes silent

and your breath quickens,

and your cheeks light up

and you narrow your black eyes,

to see between your eyelashes

glow with damp fire

the fiery spark that springs up

of the volcano of desires,

diera, my soul,

for how much I hope,

faith, the spirit,

the earth, the sky.

2. Volverán las oscuras golondrinas (it is by many, as mentioned before, Bécquer’s most famous poem).

The dark swallows will return

on your balcony their nests to hang,

and again with the wing to your crystals

playing will call.

But those whose flight restrained

your beauty and my happiness to contemplate,

those who learned our names…

those… they won’t come back!

The dense honeysuckles will return

of your garden walls to climb

and again in the evening even more beautiful

their flowers will open.

But those curds of dew

whose drops we watched tremble

and fall like tears of the day…

those… they won’t come back!

They will return from love in your ears

the fiery words to sound,

your heart from its deep sleep

maybe he will wake up.

But mute and absorbed and on his knees

as one worships God before an altar,

as I have loved you… unhook yourself,

no one will love you.

3. XXX rhyme

A tear came to his eye.

y… my lip a sentence of forgiveness;

pride spoke and wiped away a sob,

and the phrase on my lip expired.

I go one way, she goes another;

but at the thought of our mutual love,

I still say: Why did I keep silent that day?

And she will say: “Why didn’t I cry? It is a matter of words, and, nevertheless,

neither you nor I ever,

after the past we will agree

on whom the fault lies

Pity that love a dictionary

have nowhere to find

when pride is simply pride

and when it is dignity!

4. Rhyme XLV

In the key of the poorly secured arc

whose stones the time reddened,

work of rough chisel championed

the gothic coat of arms.

Plume of his granite helmet,

the ivy that hung around it

shaded the shield on which a hand

had a heart.

To contemplate him in the deserted square

we both stood up.

And, that, he said to me, is the very emblem

of my constant love.

Oh, it’s true what he told me then:

truth that the heart

you will carry it in your hand… anywhere…

but not on the chest.

5. What is poetry?

What is poetry, you say as you nail

in my pupil your blue pupil.

What is poetry, and you ask me?

Poetry… is you.

6. Rhyme LVI

Today as yesterday, tomorrow as today

and always the same!

A gray sky, an eternal horizon

and walk… walk.

Moving to the beat like a stupid

machine the heart;

the brain’s clumsy intelligence

asleep in a corner.

The soul, which longs for a paradise,

seeking him without faith;

fatigue without object, rolling wave

not knowing why.

Voice that incessantly with the same tone

sings the same song,

monotonous falling drop of water

and falls without ceasing.

And so the days go by

one another in pursuit,

today the same as yesterday … and all of them

without joy or pain.

Ouch! sometimes I remember sighing

of the old suffering!

The pain is bitter but even

to suffer is to live!

7. Rhyme I

I know a giant and strange hymn

that announces in the night of the soul a dawn,

and these pages are from that hymn

cadences that the air dilates in the shadows.

I would like to write to you, from the man

taming the rebellious petty language,

with words that were at the same time

sighs and laughter, colors and notes.

But it is in vain to struggle; that there is no figure

able to lock him up, and just oh! beautiful!

if I hold yours in my hands

I could sing it in your ear alone.

8. Rhyme II

Flying Saeta

crosses, thrown at random,

and that it is not known where

trembling will be nailed;

leaf that dries from the tree

the gale,

no one hits the groove

where it will return to dust.

Giant wave that the wind

curls and pushes in the sea

and rolls and rolls and rolls and rolls and rolls

what beach looking for goes.

Light that in trembling hedges

shines close to expiration,

and that no one knows about them

which the last one will be.

That’s just me who by chance

I cross the world without thinking

where I come from and where I am going

my steps will lead me.

9. Sighs are air and go into the air

Sighs are air and go into the air!

Tears are water and go to the sea!

Tell me, woman: when love is forgotten,

do you know where it goes?

10. Rhyme XXIII

For a look, a world,

for a smile, a heaven,

for a kiss… I don’t know

what I would give you for a kiss.

11. Rhyme LXVII

How beautiful it is to see the day

crowned with fire to rise,

and to his kiss of fire

the waves shimmer and the air is aflame!

How beautiful it is after the rain

of the sad Autumn in the bluish afternoon,

of the wet flowers

the perfume to be inhaled to your heart’s content!

How beautiful it is when in flakes

the white silent snow falls,

of the restless flames

see the reddish tongues wagging!

How beautiful it is when there is sleep

sleep well… and snore like a sochantre…

and eating… and getting fat… and how fortunate

that this alone is not enough!

12. Rhyme XXVI

It is against my best interest to confess it,

nevertheless, my beloved,

I think like you that an ode alone is good

of a bank bill written on the back.

There will be some fool who, on hearing it, will not miss

crosses himself and says:

Woman at the end of the nineteenth century

material and prosaic… Nozzles!

Voices that make four poets run

that in winter they are covered with the lyre!

Dogs barking at the moon!

You know and I know that in this life,

with genius is very counted the one who writes it,

and with gold anyone can make poetry.

13. Rhyme LVIII

Do you want me to give you that delicious nectar

don’t be bitter about the dregs?

So breathe him in, bring him close to your lips

and leave him afterwards.

Do you want us to keep a sweet

memory of this love?

So let’s love each other very much today and tomorrow

let’s say goodbye!

14. Rhyme LXXII

The waves have vague harmony,

violets soft scent,

silver mists the cold night,

light and gold the day,

me something better;

I have Love!

Aura of applause, radiant cloud,

wave of envy that kisses the foot.

Island of dreams where it rests

the anxious soul.

Sweet intoxication

Glory is!

A burning ember is the treasure,

shadow that vanity flees.

Everything is a lie: the glory, the gold,

what I love

is only true:

Freedom!

Thus the boatmen passed by singing

the eternal song

and with the stroke of an oar the foam jumped

and wounded by the sun.

-Are you shipping? they shouted, and I smiled

I told them in passing:

I have already embarked, by signs that I still have

the clothes on the beach laid out to dry.

15. Fatigued from dancing

Fatigued from dancing,

the color is bright, the breath is brief,

leaning on my arm

of the room stopped at one end.

Between the light gauze

that lifted the throbbing breast,

a flower was swaying

in compassionate and sweet movement.

As in a mother-of-pearl cradle

that pushes the sea and caresses the zephyr,

maybe he slept there

to the breath of his half-open lips.

Oh! Who like that, he thought,

let the time slip away!

Oh! if the flowers sleep,

what a sweet dream!

16. LV Rhyme

Amidst the discordant din of the orgy

caressed my ear

as a note of distant music,

the echo of a sigh.

The echo of a sigh I know,

formed from a breath I have drunk,

perfume of a hidden flower that grows

in a gloomy cloister.

My one-day sweetheart, my sweetheart of a day, my sweetheart,

-What are you thinking about? he told me:

-You’re welcome… -In nothing and you cry? – I have

sad the sadness and sad the wine.

17. Rima L

What the savage who with clumsy hand

makes a god out of a trunk at his whim

and then kneels before his work,

that’s what you and I did.

We gave real shapes to a ghost,

of the mind ridiculous invention

and the idol is already made, we sacrifice

on his altar our love.

18. The forgotten harp

From its owner, perhaps forgotten,

silent and dust-covered,

the harp was seen.

How much note slept on his strings,

as the bird sleeps in the branches,

waiting for the hand of snow

who knows how to pull them out!

Alas, I thought, how many times has the genie

thus sleeps in the depths of the soul,

and a voice like Lazarus waits

to tell him “Get up and go!”

19. Rhyme XLVII

I have peered into deep chasms

of earth and sky,

and I have seen the end of them or with my eyes

or with thought.

But alas! from a heart I came to the abyss

and I bowed for a moment,

and my soul and my eyes were troubled:

So deep it was and so black!

20. Rhyme XXII

How does that rose you have lit live

next to your heart?

I have never before contemplated in the world

next to the volcano la flor.

21. Rhyme XLIX

Do I ever find it in the world

and walks past me

and he walks by smiling and I say

How can you laugh?

Then another smile comes to my lip

mask of pain,

and then I think: -Maybe she laughs,

how I laugh.

22. Rhyme XLIV

As in an open book

I read from your pupils in the background.

Why fake the lip

laughter that is belied by the eyes?

Cry! Do not be ashamed

to confess that you loved me a little.

Cry! No one is looking at us.

You see; I am a man… and I cry too.

23. Rhyme XCI

The sun may be eternally cloudy;

The sea can dry up in an instant;

The earth’s axis may break

Like a weak crystal.

everything will happen! Will death be able to

To cover me with its funereal crepe;

But it can never be extinguished in me

The flame of your love.

24. Rhyme XLII

When they told me I felt the cold

of a steel blade in the guts,

I leaned against the wall, and for an instant

I lost consciousness of where I was.

Night fell upon my spirit

My soul was flooded with anger and pity, and then I understood why we cry!

and then I understood why he kills himself!

Passed the cloud of sorrow… with sorrow

I managed to stammer out a few words…

Who gave me the news… A faithful friend…

He was doing me a great favor… I thanked him.

25. Rhyme XLVIII

How to remove iron from a wound

I tore his love from my entrails,

although I felt in doing so that life

I would start with him!

From the altar I raised for him in my soul

the Will cast its image,

and the light of the faith that burned in her

before the deserted altar was extinguished.

Even to fight my firm determination

his tenacious vision comes to my mind…

When will I be able to sleep with that dream

what is the end of dreaming!

The Glorieta de Bécquer Seville

In María Luisa Park in Seville, you can see the Glorieta de Bécquer while walking through the park. It is a pleasant place to spend an afternoon. The monument dedicated to the poet Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer is a circular structure, with a large tree in the middle and a marble monument around the tree. It is decorated with sculptures and a huge cypress tree. The gazebo at the Glorieta de Bécquer has three women representing three stages of love. The three women wear traditional 19th century clothing, which gives the piece a romantic ambiance.

Many couples and individuals bring their poems and other works. The statue is the perfect place to meet someone special. Surrounded by flowers and trees, it is the perfect place for a romantic date. It is a beautiful work of art and a wonderful place to spend your time.

The sculpture has been declared an asset of cultural interest and established very close to the Plaza de España, the Glorieta de Becquer is a popular tourist destination in Seville where travelers can take a stroll.

La Glorieta De Becquer Maria Luisa Park Seville

Detail of La Glorieta de Bécquer in Seville.

What makes Bécquer’s poems unique?

Bécquer was a Spanish poet who wrote in the style of romanticism. His poems are often about nature and love.

Adolfo Bécquer’s poems are unique because they use many metaphors and similes, which gives them a poetic quality. They also use repetition to create rhythm.

Some of the most famous poems written by the Spanish poet are representative of this style. His poems are unique in that they use many metaphors and similes, giving them a unique poetic quality.

In How many times at the foot of the mosses, we can see the beauty of his rhymes.

How many times at the foot of the mossy…

LXX

How many times at the foot of the mosses
walls that guard it,
I heard the shearing that in the middle of the night
to matins calls!
How many times my sad shadow has traced my sad shadow
the silver moon
next to that of the cypress tree that from its orchard
peeking through the walls!
When the church was enveloped in shadows,
of its openwork warhead
how many times to tremble on the glasses
I saw the glow of the lamp!
Although the wind in the dark corners
of the tower will whistle,
of the choir among the voices perceived
his voice vibrant and clear.
In the winter nights if a medroso
for the vacant seat
dared to cross, when he spotted me
the pace accelerated.
And there was an old woman who at the lathe
said in the morning
that of some sexton dead in sin
perhaps I was the soul.
In the dark I knew the nooks and crannies
of the atrium and the cover;
from my feet the nettles that grow there
the footprints may keep.
The owls that followed me in terror
with its eyes of flame,
came to look at me over time
as a good comrade.
At my side without fear the reptiles
were crawling along,
even the mute saints of granite
I think they were waving at me!

aldofo becquer's poems

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Josefa Espin, the wife of Bécquer

It was the autumn of 1858, when the playwright was walking around Madrid with a friend, also recovering from a serious illness, tuberculosis at the behest of his doctor. On one of these walks, Gustavo Aldofo Bécquer met Julia Espín.

Very tall, brown skinned but pale, slim, with dark curly hair, wide open brown eyes and above all beautiful. Seeing her on the balcony of his window, it was a ray of love, a crush from the first moment between the two.

At that time, Becquert was still trying to fit into Madrid’s literary circles and published in some publications, while Julia’s relative belonged to the best known and most reputable musical circles in Madrid, since Julia Espín’s father, Joaquín Espín, was the Director of the Choirs of the Teatro Real. As for her mother, Josefina Perez, she was the niece of singer Isabella Colbrand.

Bécquer’s creativity flourished and he wrote many of his most famous works in her presence while they were together. He made her the protagonist of some verses of his well-known “Rhymes and Legends”, or including The Dream of Love. Espín died in 1906, on December 19, 1906 at the age of 68.

After loving and meeting Julia Espin, Becquer met another young woman named Elisa Guillen. He is deeply in love with Elisa Guillén, who comes from a wealthy family and is very beautiful. This passion makes the poet suffer a lot because it is dominated by bitterness and pain. Elisa soon tires of him, leaves him to find another man and leaves Beszker in despair.

Death of Aldofo Bécquer

Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer died young, at the age of 34, December 22, 1870 in Madrid. He was a Spanish poet, narrator and journalist, considered the pinnacle of Hispanic romanticism and the initiator of contemporary Spanish poetry. Bécquer’s fame is based on a single book, published posthumously, but he was an influential figure in Spanish literature for his journalism. He is considered one of the most important romantic poets of all Spanish literature, although not practically all of his poetic work is preserved, according to some of his friends, he wrote many of them on scraps of paper that were lost or thrown away.

Literary work of Aldofo Bécquer

1857

History of the temples of Spain

1860-61

Literary Letters to a Woman, letters published in El contemporáneo

1864

Letters from my cell

1868

The Book of Sparrows. The compilation of his “Rimas” lost the manuscript during the “Glorious Revolution” of 1868 and Bécquer with willpower wrote them again, it turned out that the poet called them “poems that I remember from the lost book”.

1871

Legends, published in several magazines before the author’s death.
Rhymes, posthumous work. Edition of 1871 has 76 rhymes. The edition considered definitive contains ten more of the 76 rhymes.

In total, the complete works of Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer comprise:

  • Twenty Legends.
  • Ten Letters from my cell.
  • Literary letters to a woman.
  • The Temples of Toledo.
  • the Rhymes.
  • Poetic pieces of adolescence.
  • 15 Literary Essays.
  • 24 chronicles on Spanish traditions and customs.
  • 19 chronicles on different topics.
  • Diverse’ thoughts.
  • 1 Literary Testament.

Fue de hecho bautizado el 10 de octubre de 1801 en la iglesia parroquial de San Lorenzo Mártir de Lima, y sus descendientes directos, empezando por su propio padre José Domínguez Bécquer, eran pintores de costumbres andaluzas, y tanto Gustavo Adolfo como su hermano Valeriano estaban muy dotados para el dibujo. En realidad, Valeriano se decantaba por la pintura. Sin obstante, el 26 de enero de 1841, cuando el joven poeta tenía cuatro años, su padre falleció y su vocación de pintor perdió su mayor apoyo.

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