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Por que es un compendio de poemas llamados nocturnos que muestran perfectamente diferentes significados de la muerte, desde el hecho de perder al ser amado, la muerte como orgasmo, la muerte de la soledad, el miedo de perder la vida, etc. Su lenguaje es preciso y fluido.

AL AMOR DE IMAGENES DOCUMENT Original (PDF)

Este es de mis poemarios favoritos de la vida. View 1 comment. Jun 11, C. Here's an excerpt from his NOCTURNE: LOVE: Nothing is heard hearing himself swimming in this pool of shadows I don't know how my arms aren't bruised by your breathing as I follow in the wretchedness of crime and you fall into the net that's stretched by sleep In your eyes you hold the name of your accomplice but your eyelids are harder than silence and you'd rather kill than share that joy of sinking eyes closed into sleep A remarkable book!

Cambian miradas, atreven sonrisas, forman imprevistas parejas… En general un libro necesario en la biblioteca del poeta. Lo recomiendo. Villaurrutia's voice is restrained, even chilly; he often seems to write about emotion rather than from emotion.

ISBN 13: 9788495122094

There is a good deal of Poe-ish obsessiveness about his work, but without the intensity. The owners are away, and the streets are empty. Everyone's gone to the moon. Apr 14, Alberto Monroy rated it liked it. In his poems, the cold bites, steel echoes and reverberates through the bones; streets are dark with the kind of dark that only comes with complete solitude; and then he combines these elements to make the vistas even more deserted and the feeling of loneliness even more unbearable.

I love some of the verses, especially the nocturnals, othes I felt restrained and too cold and metallic that I felt like those elements, for even these numbing elements must pierce the soul and thence, melt with pass In his poems, the cold bites, steel echoes and reverberates through the bones; streets are dark with the kind of dark that only comes with complete solitude; and then he combines these elements to make the vistas even more deserted and the feeling of loneliness even more unbearable. I love some of the verses, especially the nocturnals, othes I felt restrained and too cold and metallic that I felt like those elements, for even these numbing elements must pierce the soul and thence, melt with passion.

I am still reading this but I wish to hell that I could speak spanish and read love poems in spanish or have someone write me love poems in spanish that I understood and that sound like this. I love, love poems and I love reading things in other languages that sound soo much more romantic and filled with yearning than english.

La "sibilación escrita". Anagramatismo en la poesía de A. Machado - Persée

There are some of them in here that really do it. I struggle and try and figure out what it says in spanish and then resort to the english side and keep going back and for I am still reading this but I wish to hell that I could speak spanish and read love poems in spanish or have someone write me love poems in spanish that I understood and that sound like this. I struggle and try and figure out what it says in spanish and then resort to the english side and keep going back and forth until I feel fulfilled Excelente poeta.

Denisse Ascencio rated it it was amazing Apr 25, Common reasons:. Gracias mi linda, me alegra que te haya gustado.


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Saludos mi Reina,! Se le quiere en la distancia, pero no en el olvido! Por cierto ya puedes ingresar al discord en votovzla. Muchisimas gracias por su valioso apoyo, espero seguir aportando para la comunidad. Por los campos luchados se extienden los heridos. La sangre llueve siempre boca arriba, hacia el cielo.

Y las heridas suenan igual que caracolas, cuando hay en las heridas celeridad de vuelo, esencia de las olas. La sangre huele a mar, sabe a mar y a bodega. La que contengo es poca cosa para el gran cometido de sangre que quisiera perder por las heridas. Mi vida es una herida de juventud dichosa. The Wounded Man.

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The wounded stretch out across the battlefields. And from that stretched field of bodies that fight a wheat-field of warm fountains springs up and spreads out into streams with husky voices. Blood always rains upward toward the sky. And the wounds lie there making sounds like seashells, if inside the wounds there is the swiftness of flight, essence of waves. Blood smells like the sea, and tastes like the sea, and the winecellar.


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The wine cellar of the sea, of rough wine, breaks open where the wounded man drowns, shuddering, and he flowers and finds himself where he is. I am wounded: look at me: I need more lives. The one I have is too small for the consignment of blood that I want to lose through wounds.

Tell me who has not been wounded. My life is a wound with a ahppy childhood. If a man goes toward the hospitals joyfully, they change into gardens of half-opened wounds, of flowering oleanders in front of the surgery room with its bloodstained doors. Han enmudecido el campo, presintiendo la lluvia. Reaparece en la tierra su primer abandono. Cuando la lluvia llama se remueven los muertos.

La tierra se hace un hoyo removido, oloroso. Bajo la lluvia adquiere la voz de los relojes la gran edad, la angustia de la postrera hora. Como bajo el subsuelo, bajo el signo lluvioso todo, todo parece desear ahora la paz definitiva. Llueve como un sangre transparente, hechizada. El cielo se desangra pausadamente herido. El verde intensifica la penumbra en las hojas.