Tabla de Contenidos
The poetry that sings to the mother is extremely extensive, and completely universal in time and space. We collect in this article 20 poems by Spanish-language writers about motherhood.
To my mother
Published in 1863, A mi madre includes a set of poems by Rosalía de Castro, Galician poetess and novelist. She was born in Santiago de Compostela in 1837 and was one of the great Spanish poets of the 19th century, writing in Galician and Spanish. The poems contained in To My Mother were written after her mother’s death in 1862.
…
Oh, what a deep sadness!
Oh, what a terrible pain!
Lying in the black box
without movement and without voice,
pale as wax
that his remains lit up,
I have seen the poor thing
mother of my heart!
Since then I have not
who gave me warmth,
that the fire that she lit
numb went off.
I have not had since then
a loving voice
to tell me: my daughter,
I am the one who gave birth to you!
Oh, what a deep sadness!
Oh, what a terrible pain!…
She is dead and I am alive!
She is dead and I live!
But, alas, bird without a nest,
the sun will light it little,
and it was my mother’s chest
nest of my heart!
Mother, I’m going to Santiago tomorrow
The poem Mother I’m going to Santiago tomorrow is included in Trilce, the most relevant collection of poems by César Vallejo and a fundamental work of Spanish-language poetry. César Vallejo, a transcendental poet of the 20th century, was born in Santiago de Chuco, in Peru, in 1892.
Mother, I’m going to Santiago tomorrow,
to get wet in your blessing and in your tears.
I am accommodating my disappointments and the pink
sore of my false trajines.
…
Thus, dead immortal.
Between the colonnade of your bones
that cannot fall or cry,
and whose side not even fate could meddle
not a single finger of his.
Thus, dead immortal.
So.
Suffering
The memory of the mother in times of burden. Dolores Ventimilla was a 19th century Ecuadorian poet; she was born in Quito on July 12, 1829.
…
So oh! then, my mother,
your lips wiped
childish tears that flowed
my purple cheeks….and in the day
Oh my! you are not around to see them….
They are the color of tarred pearls….
…
onion lullabies
Miguel Hernández, a Spanish poet who was born in Orihuela in 1910 and died in Alicante at the age of 32, was a representative of the generation of ’27. He wrote this poem dedicated to his wife Josefina Manresa and his son Manuel Miguel while he was imprisoned in the prison of Torrijos, in Madrid.
…
In the cradle of hunger
my child was
with onion blood
she breastfed.
but your blood
sugar frosting,
onion and hunger
a brown woman,
resolved in moon,
spills thread by thread
over the crib
laugh, child
that you swallow the moon
when it is necessary.
…
the mother
Pablo Neruda’s mother died when the poet was very young; His father later married Trinidad Marverde, the mother, ” I could never say stepmother “, to whom he dedicates the poem.
…
oh sweet mama
─I could never
say stepmother─,
now
my mouth trembles to define you,
because barely
I opened the understanding
I saw goodness dressed in a poor dark rag,
the most useful holiness:
that of water and flour,
and that’s what you were: life made you bread
and there we consume you,
long winter to desolate winter
with the leaks inside
of the house
and your ubiquitous humility
shelling
the rough
poverty cereal
as if you had gone
spreading
a river of diamonds
…
Pablo Neruda was born in Parral, in Chile, on July 12, 1904. One of the most notable poets of the 20th century was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971. He died in Santiago, Chile in 1973.
the mother now
In La madre ahora Mario Benedetti translates his feelings when he is reunited with his mother after twelve years of exile. Mario Benedetti was a Uruguayan poet and novelist; He was born in Paso de los Toros, in Tacuarembó, in 1920.
twelve years ago
how long did i have to go
I left my mother by the window
looking at the avenue
now i get it back
only with a cane difference
…
how I would like to understand it
when I see her the same as before
wasting the avenue
but at this point what else
I can do that amuse her
with true or invented stories
buy him a new tv
or hand him his cane
Malinche
One of the themes of the texts by the Mexican writer Rosario Castellanos is women from a feminist perspective; she in this poem she talks about her mother and her own birth.
…
thrown out, expelled
of the kingdom, of the palace and of the warm entrails
of the one that gave birth to me in the legitimate thalamus
and that he hated me because I was his equal
in figure and rank
and he contemplated himself in me and hated his image
and smashed the mirror on the floor.
I advance towards destiny between chains
And I leave behind what I still hear:
the mournful rumors with which I am buried.
And my mother’s voice with tears, with tears!
that decrees my death.
Rosario Castellanos Figueroa was born in Mexico City on May 25, 1925; she is one of the most important Mexican writers of the 20th century.
To my mother
Acknowledgment to who gave life. José Martí was born in Havana, Cuba, on January 28, 1853.
Mother of the soul Dear mother,
They are your natives, I want to sing;
because my soul, filled with love,
Although very young, you never forget
of which life had to give me.
The years go by, the hours fly
that by your side I don’t feel like going
for your captivating caresses
and the looks so seductive
that make my strong chest beat.
…
words to my mother
In this sonnet Alfonsina Storni talks with her mother.
Not the great truths I ask you, what
you would not answer them; I only investigate
Yes, when you gave birth to me, the moon was a witness
through the dark courtyards in bloom, strolling.
And yes, when in your bosom of Latin fervors,
I was sleeping listening, a hoarse sound sea
the nights numbed you, and you looked into the gold
of twilight, the sea birds sink.
Because my soul is all fantastic, traveler
and a cloud of light madness surrounds her
when the new moon rises to the blue sky.
And it likes if the sea opens its strong cauldrons.
Lulled in a clear sailor’s song
look at the great birds that pass aimlessly.
Alfonsina Storni, Argentine poet and novelist, was born in Capriasca, Switzerland, on May 29, 1892. She was a single mother, something severely condemned by Argentine society at that time.
little mother
mother, mother,
white cantarrana flower,
soft charm of my life,
sweet love that never deceives
Who looks at you already admires you,
mirror that does not fog up,
the virtue well learned,
to suffer always in silence.
persevering little spider,
that in the mountain corner,
her laborious little tissue
in silence weaves and saves.
A lovely life
of delicate tenderness,
of kind patience,
sweet love that never deceives
Rómulo Gallegos was one of the most important Latin American writers of the 20th century. He was born in Caracas, Venezuela, on August 2, 1884.
Once
The existential, life, beginning in the poem by being a father and mother. Idea Vilariño was a Uruguayan poetess; she was born in Montevideo on August 18, 1920.
I am my father and my mother
I am my children
and i am the world
I am life
and I’m nothing
nobody
a piece animated
a visit
that was not
that will not be after
I’m being now
I hardly know anything else
as once were
other things that were
like a distant sky
one month
one week
a summer day
than other days in the world
dissipated
Sweetness
Gabriela Mistral writes to her mother. Gabriela Mistral was a Chilean poet, Nobel Prize for Literature in 1945. She was born in Vicuña, in the Elqui Valley, on April 7, 1889.
my mother,
tender little mother,
let me tell you
extreme sweetness.
my body is yours
that you gathered in a bouquet;
let stir it
on your lap.
play to be leaf
and I to be Rocío:
and in your crazy arms
keep me suspended
my mother,
my whole world,
let me tell you
the utmost affection
gifts
The feeling of the poet for what the mother instilled in his life. Luis Gonzaga Urbina was born in Mexico City in 1864.
…
You put in my soul the sick tenderness,
the restless, nervous yearning to love;
the hidden desire to believe; Sweetness
to feel the beauty of life, and dream.
Of the fecund kiss that two beings gave each other
-the joyful and the sad- in an hour of love,
my inharmonious soul was born; but you, mother, are
who has given me the secret of inner peace.
…
unborn child poem
The denial of birth, of life, is expressed in this poem by Julia de Burgos, a Puerto Rican poet who was born in Carolina on February 17, 1914.
As you were born for clarity
you left unborn
you lost serene
before me,
and you covered centuries
the agony of not seeing you
…
Yours, immensely yours,
how were you born for clarity
you left unborn,
tuberose between two pupils who never knew
separate the echo from the shadow.
Spring without pitiful dews,
fertile foot walking forever on earth.
To my mother
Rubén Darío, a Nicaraguan poet who was born in Metapa in 1867, dedicates this poem to his mother.
I dreamed that I found myself one day
deep in the sea:
on the coral that was there
and the pearls shone
a unique tomb I approached cautiously
to that place of pain
and I read: “He lies at rest
that unhappy love
but immense, holy love”
The hand in the shadowy grave
I had and lost my reason.
When I woke up I had
the tremulous and cold hand
placed over the heart.
When in the mother’s arms
The happiness of the father before the vision of his son with his mother, the description of Antonio Machado in this poem included in his book Campos de Castilla, published in 1912. Antonio Machado was a Spanish poet; He was born in Seville on July 26, 1875 and died in exile in Collioure, in France, on February 22, 1939.
When in the mother’s arms
saw the laughing figure
of the first son, burnished
of blond sun the head
of the child who raised
the greedy ones, little ones
hands to the red cherries
and the purple plums,
or that autumn afternoon
golden, placid and good,
he thought it could be
happy man on earth.
The cradle
The feeling of the mother through the cradle for her child. Juana de Ibarborou was born in Melo, in Uruguay, in 1892.
If I knew what jungle it came from
the vigorous tree that gave the cedar
to turn my son’s cradle.
I would like to bless your exotic name,
I would like to guess under which sky,
under what breeze was growing slow
the tree that was born with destiny
to be so pure and tiny bed.
…
Huge tree, that you became humble
to cradle a child between your segments,
rock my children’s children!
All my race will sleep in your arms!
Mom, I want to be made of silver
Mom, I want to be made of silver.
Son, you will be very cold.
Mom, I want to be made out of water.
Son, you will be very cold.
Mom, embroider me on your pillow.
Yes indeed!
Right now!.
Federico García Lorca was a Spanish writer of the generation of ’27; He was born in Fuente Vaqueros, in Granada, on June 5, 1898.
Mother
Motherhood projected onto other children. Gioconda Belli is a Nicaraguan writer; she was born in Managua on December 9, 1948.
…
He no longer loves only his children,
nor is it given only to their children.
She wears on her breasts
thousands of hungry mouths.
She is the mother of broken children
of little boys playing tops on dusty sidewalks
she gave birth to herself
feeling –at times–
unable to bear so much love on the shoulders
…
Mother, my mother
Mother, my mother,
you keep me;
What if I don’t save myself
you will not keep me
They say it’s written
and with great reason
be deprivation
cause of appetite;
grows in infinity
locked up love;
that’s why it’s better
that you do not lock yourself up;
What if I don’t save myself?
you will not keep me
…
It is in such a way
the loving force,
than to the most beautiful
turns her into a chimera,
the chest of wax
of fire wins,
woolen hands,
felt feet
What if I don’t save myself?
you will keep me wrong
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra also wrote about the mother. He was born in Alcalá de Henares on September 29, 1547; he considers himself the greatest exponent of the Hispanic language.
Sources
Biography of Antonio Machado. Consulted in October 2021.
Biography of Miguel Hernandez. Consulted in October 2021.
Cesar Vallejo. trilce . Consulted in October 2021.
Julia de Burgos: her life and her poems. Consulted in October 2021.
M. Orrego. Alfonsina Storni, notes on her life and work From her. Uruguay Educates. Consulted in October 2021.
Rosalia de Castro. To my mother. Consulted in October 2021.
Rosario Castellanos. In the middle ground. Consulted in October 2021.
