Poems by José Martí

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Illustrated rustic ISBN: 9788490071885

SKU: 9788498978797 Category: Tags: , , , ,

The poetic career of José Martí began with the romantic postulates, developed with the first modernist creations and already, at the end of his life, he opted for simple and popular forms. José Martí, in addition to being one of the founders of Latin American thought, initiated, with his poetry, modernism and was an inspiration for poets such as Rubén Darío or Juan Ramón Jiménez.
For Martí, poetry has two purposes. The first refers to the intimate being of the poet: the verse that serves to console its creator from his sadness and loneliness. The second function is to fulfill an undeniable social role.
José Martí’s poetry is based on a dualistic vision of humanity: reality and idealism, spirit and matter, truth and falsehood, consciousness and unconsciousness, light and darkness. This ideology is summarized in the following verse:

“Cattle I have the bread, let the verse be done”

This anthology of Poems by José Martí brings together the totality of the poetic work of the author known to date —including some unpublished poems in the life of the Cuban poet and unfinished sketches—, and includes the following works:

  • Scattered Poems I;
  • Poems written in Spain (1871-1874);
  • Poems written in Mexico and Guatemala (1875-1877);
  • Ismaelillo;
  • Scattered Poems II;
  • Poems of the Golden Age (1889);
  • Poems of circumstances;
  • Rhyming letters;
  • Unfinished poems;
  • Simple verses;
  • and Free Verses.

For this edition we have started from the edition of Cintio Vitier. Against it we have contrasted the definitive versions of those of Poems by José Martí.

My mother,— the faint radiance bathes you

My mother,— the faint radiance bathes you
Of this miserable light with which I am enlightened.—
And here from my bed
I look at you, and no wonder
If you live in me, let it come narrow
To my giant heart my chest!

Sleep already eludes my eyes,
Because they were, if the dream were closed,
Eyes without light of God, ungodly eyes.
I look at you, O mother, and in life I believe!
How to close to the placid rest
The agitated eyes, if I see you?

They fill me with tears. ¿It’s true
That I still live as others live?

That at the pleasure of life I have not died?
I weep, O my holy mother! I believed
That for nothing in the world I would cry!
The Joys of the Earth Despised
And slowly, slowly I was dying :—
I didn’t think about you—I forgot
That you were only my life!
You are here. The shadow of your image
When I rest it bathes my head:—
No more—no more your holy love outrage
Thoughts of barbarian fierceness:—
A life is over:— my life begins!—

The light shines now
Your eyes, and you look at me:
How sweetly you speak to me! I think
That everything laughs placid next to me,—
And it is that my soul, if you look at me, grows,
And there’s nothing after you’ve looked at me!

Flee the dream from me. How little strange
The hours are that at rest robbery!—
Oh!—If I Feel Death
It’s because, dead now, I won’t be able to see you!—

They are coming through my window
Glimpses of the morning light:

They do not chirp like there the birds,
Nor do they smell like there the fresh flowers,
I don’t even hear that song of the singles
Cubans and happy farmers;—
Nor is there that blue sky that makes me fall in love,
No greenery in the trees, no breeze,
Nor anything of Eden that my soul cries for
And I want to tear out of your smile.—
Here there is nothing but terrifying mourning
In all that in my homeland laughs,
Blackish clouds in the brown sky—
And everywhere the eternal ice,
Without a ray of Sun to send you
The ineffable expression of my longing!—

But fear not, mother—I have no
In me this snow me. If it does,
A look from your sweet eyes
Like a ray of the sun undid it.—
Snow living you? Ask me out
May I not believe in your love, O my mother!
And if I did not believe in him,
The series of lives would live,
And as a lost soul I would wander,—
And eternal crazy in the spaces outside!—
Love! Love me always, my mother!

December 30, 1871

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