Miguel Hernández (30 October 1910 - 28 March 1942), born in Orihuela (Valencian Community), was a leading 20th century Spanish poet and playwright.
Hernández was born to a poor family and received little formal education; he published his first book of poetry at 23, and gained considerable fame before his death. He spent his childhood as a goatherd and farmhand, and was, for the most ... more »
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Miguel Hernandez Poems
To the International Soldier Fallen in S...
If there are men who contain a soul without frontiers, a brow scattered with universal hair, covered with horizons, ships, and mountain chains,
The field has retreated, seeing man's convulsive charge.
Everything is full of you
Everything is full of you and I am full of everything: the cities are full, and the cemeteries are full,
Lullaby of the Onion
An onion is frost shut in and poor. Frost of your days and of my nights.
The world Is As It Appears
The world is as it appears before my five senses, and before yours, which are
Friend of my soul, I want to be the tearful gardener of the earth you occupy, and enrich, all too soon.
I come, blood on blood, like the sea, wave on wave. I have a soul the colour of poppies. The luckless poppy is my destiny,
Do You Recall That Throat
Do you recall that throat, call up a memory of former privilege, of that former matter that was, almond-like, white and lovely,
Like A Young Fig Tree
Like a young fig tree you were, on the cliffs. And when I passed by you rang in the mountains.
It Did Not Want To Be
It did not recognise the meeting of the he and she. The blossom so enamoured could not become flowery.
Upon the Dead I Am Sitting
Upon the dead I am sitting Who have laid still for two months, Their empty shoes I have kissed
Death, In A Bull's Pelt
Death, in a bull's pelt, full of the holes and horns of its own undoing, grazes and tramples
It Would Have Been Less Painful
It would have been less painful if it had been nard your complexion to my gaze, nard, thistle your skin to my touch, thistle,
For un-feathering the glacial archangels, the barbed-lily snowfall of slender teeth is condemned to the weeping of fountains
Comments about Miguel Hernandez
(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)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
To the International Soldier Fallen in Spain
If there are men who contain a soul without frontiers,
a brow scattered with universal hair,
covered with horizons, ships, and mountain chains,
with sand and with snow, then you are one of those.
Fatherlands called to you with all their banners,
so that your breath filled with beautiful movements.
You wanted to quench the thirst of panthers
and fluttered full against their abuses.
With a taste of all suns and seas,
Spain beckons you because in her you realize
your majesty like a tree that embraces a continent.
Around your bones, the olive groves ...