Elena Martin Vivaldi was an Andalusian poet who was born in Granada on February 8, 1907 and died on a day like today in 1998. So this anniversary we remember his figure with this selection of poems Of his work.
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Elena Martin Vivaldi
Her father was a professor of Gynecology and a progressive man, which could have influenced her to study at a time when it was not usual for women to do so. She graduated in Teaching and Philosophy and Letters by the University of Granada. Later he opposed the Corps of Libraries, Archives and Museums and obtained a position as archivist.
It was contemporary of some poets of the 27 Generation, but it is not usually included because she began writing later and was first published in 1945.
His poetry has a intimate and melancholic tone and echoes of Gustavo Adolfo Becquer. His complete works were published as shore time in 1985. Three years later she was named Favorite Daughter of Granada and also received the medal from the city's Royal Academy of Fine Arts.
Elena Martín Vivaldi — Poems
Between you, loneliness, I look for myself and I die,
in you, my loneliness, my life I continue
defeated by your arms I go with you
and there I wait for you where I no longer want.
I've always been waiting for you on my street,
and lover of my nights I chase you,
if ever, hurt, I curse you,
since your absence, sad, despair.
You gave me the hope of having you
in my pain Guided by your hand
I climbed the steps of death.
Here where in your shadow I am grown,
time, yours and mine, is close,
leaving me the blood already fulfilled.
And it was a silence hard as stone;
a silence of centuries
It was a grim, impenetrable silence;
a silence without veins
It was a pain of love, made of long
nights without the beloved
Made of faithful hands that reach out
It was a sleeping voice in the shadows,
some dry tears
Feverish lip tremor, a madwoman
Gone is the pain, his hand raised
that struck in the face of reverie,
looking for the roots, the germ of illusions
grown on this hard and dry land
of tired meat
But his clumsy fingers could not
break this improbable and rebellious crust,
your waiting bid.
the fight starts now
with a blush of flame.
behind the pain shines
the green branch and stem.
The man stretches his gaze to the sky.
Shadow of a truth, happy quarrel,
Up into space, haughty star
For centuries of hope contemplated.
Boat of an illusion, ship born
in sails of his audacity. yes more beautiful
Venus nails her light, Echoes flashes
with a voice that has always been pronounced.
Worlds numberless his presence
they admit in brilliant latticework.
Stretched network where love and science
collect their messages. Like a sister
of the whole universe, poetry
sing, in the night, eternal and superhuman.
what would the rain be like
if it weren't scented,
How would the rain sound,
if it didn't shine bright,
flash of lightning,
of smells and hopes?
How would the rain give off its scent,
its gray perfume,
if it weren't that rhythm,
a scale of dreams?
What would the rain be like?
if it wasn't his name?
for your blue silence
You, moon, if you spoke to me,
if under your cold heart
you had, free, a soul.
If within your blue silence
burning words will throb,
to my defeated blood waking up.
If your steps left a path
and a marked path
to escape the world of uncertainty.
Oh, moon, if you came,
wandering wakefulness light,
to my house.
If you opened the balconies at night,
and between scales of aromas
your hands would reach out to me
If forgetting your blind indifference,
you will fill my eyes with those green
landscapes, where do you have
hidden the secret of your flame.
Oh, moon, always moon,
for your immobile luck,
uselessly moon of my crying.
If you heard me, moon!
What golden fullness is in your cup,
tree, when I wait for you
in the blue cold sky morning.
How many long Augusts, and how intense
They have covered you, suffering, with yellows.
All afternoon it lit up
golden and beautiful, because God wanted it.
All my soul was a murmur
of sunsets, impatient in yellow.
Serena of yellows I have the soul.
I do not know. serene?
It seems that among the gold of its branches
something green turns me on.
Something green, impatient, undermines me.
God bless your gap.
For this fertile hole of my desires
a delayed sky reveals me.
Oh, my hope, love, voice that does not exist,
you, my always yellow.
Make yourself a fiery twilight sun:
get green, yellow.
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