Storni was born in Sala Capriasca, Switzerland to an Argentine beer industrialist living in Switzerland for a few years. There, Storni learned to speak Italian. Following the failure of the family business, they opened a tavern in the city of Rosario, Argentina, where Storni worked at a variety of chores.
In 1907, she joined a traveling theatre company which took her around the country. With them she performed in Henrik Ibsen's Spectres, Benito Pérez Galdós's La loca de la casa, and Florencio Sánchez's Los muertos.
Back in Rosario she finished her studies as a rural primary teacher, and also started working for Mundo Rosarino and Monos y Monadas local magazines, as well... more »
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Alfonsina Storni Poems
I Am Going to Sleep
Teeth of flowers, hairnet of dew, hands of herbs, you, perfect wet nurse, prepare the earthly sheets for me and the down quilt of weeded moss.
Today my mother and sisters came to see me. I had been alone a long time
Little Little Man
Little little man, little little man, set free your canary that wants to fly. I am that canary, little little man, leave me to fly.
Lighthouse in the Night
The sky a black sphere, the sea a black disk. The lighthouse opens
You said the word that enamors My hearing. You already forgot. Good. Sleep peacefully. Your face should Be serene and beautiful at all hours.
My melancholy was gold dust in your hands; On your long hands I scattered my life; My sweetnesses remained clutched in your hands; Now I am a vial of perfume, emptied
A Eros (To Eros)
HE AQUI que te cacé por el pescuezo a la orilla del mar, mientras movías las flechas de tu aljaba para herirme
A Madona Poesia (To My Lady of Poetry)
AQUI a tus pies lanzada, pecadora, contra tu tierra azul, mi cara oscura, tú, virgen entre ejércitos de palmas
Quiero un amor feroz de garra y diente Que me asalte a traición a pleno día Y que sofoque esta soberbia mía este orgullo de ser todo pudiente.
Tu Me Quieres Blanca
TU ME QUIERES alba, Me quieres de espumas, Me quieres de nácar. Que sea azucena
Soy un alma desnuda en estos versos, Alma desnuda que angustiada y sola Va dejando sus pétalos dispersos.
SOBRE la tierra seca EI sol quemando cae: Zumban los moscardones Y las grietas se abren...
Hombre pequeñito, hombre pequeñito, suelta a tu canario que quiere volar Yo soy el canario, hombre pequeñito, déjame saltar.
What Would They Say?
What would the people say, reduced and empty, If one fortuitous day, by some extreme fantasy, I were to dye my hair silvery and violet, were to wear an old greek gown, exchanging the comb for a circlet of flowers: forget-me-nots or jasmines,
Comments about Alfonsina Storni
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
I Am Going to Sleep
Teeth of flowers, hairnet of dew,
hands of herbs, you, perfect wet nurse,
prepare the earthly sheets for me
and the down quilt of weeded moss.
I am going to sleep, my nurse, put me to bed.
Set a lamp at my headboard;
a constellation; whatever you like;
all are good: lower it a bit.
Leave me alone: you hear the buds breaking through . . .
a celestial foot rocks you from above
and a bird traces a pattern for you
so you'll forget . . . Thank you. Oh, one request:
if he telephones again
tell him not to keep trying for I have left . . .