25 poems by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer.

Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer, the Poet of Love

Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer was born on February 17, 1836 in Seville and died on December 22, 1870 at the age of 34 in Madrid.

He is still one of the most current poets of the period called "romanticism"..

The influence of this famous poet reaches even today, being indispensable to read him in our free moments.s.

His work is widely known and he achieved, like many, widespread fame after his death. His family was noble. On his father's side, he descended from the Beckers, a noble merchant family of Flemish origin, who settled in the Andalusian capital in the sixteenth century; their prestige is reflected in the fact that since 1622 they had one of the chapels and the tomb in the cathedral itself. Both Gustavo Adolfo and his brother, the painter Valeriano Bécquer, used Bécquer as their first name in the signatures of their works.

He wrote about his own life and influenced many writers of other eras, and he continues to influence the young writers and poets of today.

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 appeared 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 in 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, from a Flemish ancestor, used it to sign his writings.

Which 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 classics and must-haves of Hispanic literature..

And the poet Bécquer's most famous poem 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 they will call.
But those that the flight restrained your beauty and my happiness to contemplate,
those who learned our names,
those... won't come back!
The bushy honeysuckles will return from your garden the walls to climb and again in the evening even more beautiful its flowers will open.
But those dewy curds whose drops we watched tremble and fall like tears of the day....
those... won't come back!
They will return from love in your ears the burning words to sound,
your heart from its deep sleep maybe he'll wake up.
But mute and absorbed and kneeling,
as God is worshiped before his altar,
as I have loved you..., undeceive yourself,
so they won't love you!

25 Poems of Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer

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

1. Rhyme XXV

When in the night they surround you The tulle wings of dreams and your stretched eyelashes they resemble ebony bows,
to listen to the heartbeat of your restless heart and recline your sleep head on my chest give, my soul,
how much i own the light, the air and thought!
When your eyes lock in an invisible object and your lips illuminate of a smile the reflection, for reading on your forehead the quiet thought what passes like the cloud of the sea on the wide mirror,
give, my soul,
how much i want,
the fame, the gold, the glory, the genius!
When your tongue mutes and your breath rushes, and your cheeks burn and you narrow your black eyes,
to see between your eyelashes shine with wet fire the fiery spark that springs from the volcano of desires,
give, my soul,
as long as i wait,
faith, spirit, the earth, the sky.

2. The dark swallows will return (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 they will call.
But those that the flight restrained your beauty and my happiness to contemplate,
those who learned our names...
those... won't come back!
The bushy honeysuckles will return from your garden the walls to climb and again in the evening even more beautiful its flowers will open.
But those dewy curds whose drops we watched tremble and fall like tears of the day...
those... won't come back!
They will return from love in your ears the burning words to sound,
your heart from its deep sleep maybe he'll wake up.
But mute and absorbed and on their knees as God is worshiped before an altar,
as I have loved you... undeceive yourself,
no one will want you.

3. Rhyme XXX

A tear welled up in her eyes and... my lip a phrase of forgiveness;
pride spoke and wiped away a cry,
and the sentence on my lip expired.
I go one way, she another;
but thinking of our love for each other,
I still say: why did I keep silent that day? And she will say: Why didn't I cry? It's a matter of words, and yet
neither you nor me ever,
after what happened we will agree whose fault is it Too bad I love a dictionary have nowhere to find when pride is just pride and when it's dignity!

4. Rhyme XLV

In the key of the arch bad insurance
whose stones time reddened,
rough chisel work campeaba
the gothic coat of arms.
Granite Helm Plume of Hers,
the ivy that hung all around shaded the shield in which a hand I had a heart.
To contemplate him in the deserted plaza we both stopped.
And, that, she told me, is the cabal emblem
of my constant love.
Alas, it's true what she told me then:
true than the heart you will carry it in your hand... anywhere...
but not on the chest.

5. What is poetry?

What is poetry?, you say while nailing
in my pupil your blue pupil.
What is poetry! And you ask me?
Poetry... it's you.

6. LVI Rhyme

Today like yesterday, tomorrow like today and always the same!
A gray sky, an eternal horizon and walk... walk.
Moving to the beat like a fool
machine the heart;
the clumsy intelligence of the brain asleep in a corner.
The soul, which covets a paradise,
looking for him without faith;
fatigue without object, wave that rolls ignorant why.
Voice that incessant with the same tone sing the same song,
monotonous drop of water falling and falls endlessly.
So the days slip by one another in pursuit,
today the same as yesterday... and all of them
without joy or pain.
Oh! Sometimes I remember sighing of the old suffer!
Bitter is the pain but even to suffer is to live!

7. Rhyme I

I know a giant and strange anthem that announces an aurora in the night of the soul,
and these pages are from that hymn cadences that the air dilates in the shadows.
I would like to write to you, about the man
taming the rebellious petty language,
with words that were at once sighs and laughter, colors and notes.
But it is in vain to fight; that there is no figure able to lock him up, and just oh! beautiful!
if having yours in my hands I could sing it to your ear alone.

8. Rhyme II

Arrow that flyer
crosses, thrown at random,
and you don't know where trembling she will nail;
leaf that dries up from the tree the gale snatches away,
without anyone hitting the groove
where it will return to dust.
Giant wave than the wind curls and pushes in the sea and rolls and passes and ignores what a beach you are looking for.
Light that in trembling fences shines close to expiring,
and that is not known about them which the last one will be.
That's me who by chance
I cross the world without thinking Where do I come from or where? my steps will carry me.

9. Sighs are air and go into the air

Sighs are air and they go to 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 one look, one world,
for a smile, a sky,
for a kiss... I don't know What would I give you for a kiss.

11. Rhyme LXVII

How beautiful it is to see the day crowned with fire rise up, and his fire kiss shine the waves and ignite the air!
How beautiful it is after the rain
of the sad Autumn in the bluish afternoon,
of the wet flowers the perfume aspire until satiated!
How beautiful it is when flaked the silent white snow falls,
of the restless flames see the reddish tongues wriggle!
How beautiful it is when there is sleep sleep well... and snore like a sochanter...
and eat... and gain weight... and what a fortune
that this alone is not enough!

12. Rhyme XXVI

I'm going against my interest to confess it,
nonetheless, my darling,
I think like you that an ode is only good
of a bank note written on the back.
There will be no lack of a fool who upon hearing it make crosses and say:
Woman at the end of the nineteenth century material and prosaic... Nonsense!
Voices that make four poets run! that in winter muffle themselves with the lyre!
Dogs barking at the moon!
You know and I know that in this life,
with genius, the one who writes it is very rare,
and with gold anyone makes poetry.

13. Rhyme LVIII

Do you want that delicious nectar? don't make your dregs bitter?
Well, breathe it in, bring it closer to your lips and leave him later.
Do you want us to keep a candy
memory of this love? Well, let's love each other a lot today and tomorrow Let's say goodbye!

14. Rhyme LXXII

The waves have vague harmony,
the soft scent of violets, mists of silver the cold night, light and gold the day,
I 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 drunkenness Glory is!
Burning ember is the treasure,
shadow fleeing vanity.
Everything is a lie: the glory, the gold,
what i adore
only true:
Freedom!
So the boatmen went by singing the eternal song and at the stroke of the oar the foam jumped and the sun struck her.
-Are you embarking? they shouted, and I smiled I told them in passing:
I have already embarked, by signs that I still have
clothes on the beach hanging to dry.

15. Tired from dancing

Fatigued from the dance,
the color is on, the breath is short,
leaning on my arm of the hall stopped at one end.
Between the light gauze that lifted the throbbing breast,
a flower was swaying in measured and sweet movement.
As in mother-of-pearl cradle that pushes the sea and caresses the zephyr,
maybe he slept there to the breath of her parted lips.
Oh! who like that, I thought,
let time slip by!
Oh! if the flowers sleep, what a sweet dream!

16. Rhyme LV

Amidst the discordant roar of orgy caressed my ear like a note of distant music,
the echo of a sigh.
The echo of a sigh I know,
Formed from a breath I've drunk,
perfume of a flower that hides grows in a gloomy cloister.
My beloved one day, affectionate,
-What are you thinking about? she told me:
-Not at all... -Not at all, and you cry? - It's that I have joyful sadness and sad wine.

17. Rhyme L

What the savage that with clumsy hand makes a god out of a trunk at her whim
and then before her work he kneels,
That's what you and I did.
We gave real forms to a ghost,
of the mind ridiculous invention and made the idol already, we sacrifice on his altar our love.

18. The Forgotten Harp

Of its owner maybe forgotten,
silent and covered in dust,
the harp could be seen.
How many notes slept on her strings,
as the bird sleeps in the branches,
waiting for the hand of snow who knows how to tear them off!
Ah!, I thought, how many times the genius
so he sleeps in the depths of his soul,
and a voice like Lazarus awaits to say "Get up and walk!"

19. Rhyme XLVII

I have peered into the deep chasms of the earth and the sky, and I have seen the end or with my eyes
or with thought.
but alas! from one heart I reached the abyss and leaned in for a moment,
and my soul and my eyes were troubled:
It was so deep and so black!

20. Rhyme XXII

How does that rose that you lit live? next to your heart?
Never till now I beheld in the world
next to the flower volcano.

21. Rhyme XLIX

I ever meet her around the world
and walk past me and he passes smiling and I say
How can you laugh?
Then another smile appears on my lip mask of pain and then I think: -Perhaps she laughs,
how I laugh.

22. Rhyme XLIV

Like in an open book I read from your pupils deep down.
Why fake the lip laughter that is denied with the eyes?
cry! Don't be ashamed to confess that you loved me a little.
cry! No one's looking at us.
You see; I am a man... and I cry too.

23. XCI Rhyme

The sun may cloud forever;
The sea can dry up in an instant;
The axis of the earth may break Like a weak crystal.
everything will happen! may death Cover me with your mournful crape;
But it can never go out in me The flame of your love.

24. Rhyme XLII

When they told me I felt the cold of a steel blade in the bowels,
I leaned against the wall, and for a moment I lost consciousness of where I was.
Night fell on my spirit in anger and pity the soul was drowned and then I understood why we cry!
And then I understood why you kill yourself!
The cloud of pain passed... with sorrow
I managed to stammer out a few words...
Who gave me the news?... A faithful friend...
He was doing me a big favor... I thanked him.

25. Rhyme XLVIII

As iron is removed from a wound I ripped her love from the bowels,
although I felt when doing it that life
I was torn with him!
From the altar that I raised in my soul Will the image of him cast,
and the light of faith that burned in it before the deserted altar it went out.
Even to combat my steadfast determination
the vision of him tenacious of him comes to my mind...
When can I sleep with that dream where does dreaming end!

The Bécquer Roundabout Seville

In the Parque María Luisa of Seville, se puede ver la Glorieta de Bécquer mientras se camina por el parque. It is a pleasant place to spend an afternoon. The monument dedicated to the poet Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer es una estructura circular, 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 Glorieta de Bécquer Square has three women representing three stages of love. The three women wear traditional 19th century clothing, which gives the piece a romantic atmosphere.

Many couples and individuals carry 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 Square of Spain., Glorieta de Becquer is a popular tourist destination in Seville where travelers can take a stroll.