Examples bearers of this singular popularity can be the titles: Rhymes and Legends —a joint selection of poems and short stories— and Literary letters to a woman (1860-1861). Bécquer's poetic work came to break something very marked at the time they were published: a tradition of prosaic materials of intimate transcendence. Likewise, the author undid in his lyrics that marked habit of pompous texts.
Table of Contents
Synopsis of Rimas, collection of poems by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer
The first edition of Rimas It was made public in 1871 after the author's death. The title is considered a masterpiece of XNUMXth century poetry. —although there were authors who did not agree with this conception, such as Núñez de Arc—. There are several editions of Rimas, including one that has only 76 poems.
On many occasions, the metrics and the style of the poems are innovative for their time. The same way, the verses are usually far from what was dictated by the academy at that time, which makes them free compositions. The poetic work that addresses this anthology —like another called Legends— emerges from the text The Book of Sparrows.
Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer: poems taken from Rimas
rhyme IV
Do not say that his treasure is exhausted,
affairs are missing, the lyre fell silent:
There may be no poets; but always
there will be poetry
While the waves of light to the kiss
throb lit;
while the sun the torn clouds
of fire and gold sight;
as long as the air in your lap carries
perfumes and harmonies;
as long as there is spring in the world,
there will be poetry!
As long as the science to discover does not reach
the sources of life,
And in the sea or in the sky there is an abyss
that resists calculation;
while humanity always advancing,
do not know where you walk;
as long as there is a mystery to man,
there will be poetry!
As long as we feel that the soul is happy
without the lips laughing;
while crying without the crying coming
to cloud the pupil;
while the heart and the head battling continue;
As long as there are hopes and memories,
there will be poetry!
As long as there are eyes that reflect
the eyes that look at them;
while the lip responds sighing
to the lip that sighs;
as long as they can feel in a kiss
two confused souls;
as long as there is a beautiful woman,
There will be poetry!
rhyme VI
Like the breeze that the blood breathes 
on the dark field of battle,
loaded with perfumes and harmonies
in the silence of the vague night;
symbol of pain and tenderness,
Of the English bard in the horrible drama,
the sweet Ofelia, the lost reason
picking flowers and singing passes.
Rhyme XLVI
Your breath is the breath of flowers
your voice is of the swans the harmony;
Your look is the splendor of the day,
and the color of the rose is your color.
You lend new life and hope
to a heart for love already dead:
you grow from my life in the desert
as the flower grows in a moor.
rhyme xxiv
Two red tongues of fire that
the same trunk linked
approach, and when kissing
they form a single flame.
Two notes that of the lute
at the same time the hand starts,
and in space they meet
and harmonious embrace.
Two waves that come together
to die on a beach
and that when breaking they are crowned
with a silver plume.
Two wisps of steam that
from the lake they rise, and at
meet in heaven
They form a white cloud.
Two ideas that sprout together,
two kisses that at the same time explode,
two echoes that are confused,
that's our two souls.
Rhyme LXXXIII
A woman has poisoned my soul
another woman has poisoned my body;
Neither of them came looking for me
I am not complaining about either of them.
As the world is round
the world rolls
If tomorrow, rolling,
this poison
poisons in turn,
why accuse me?
Can I give more than you
they gave me?
rhyme XXXVI
If of our grievances in a book
history was written
and be erased in our souls how much
erased in its leaves;
I still love you so much
left on my chest
your love footprints so deep, that
only if you erased one,
I deleted them all!
Rhyme LXXVII
Life is a dream
but a fever dream lasting a point;
When he wakes up,
It is seen that everything is vanity and smoke...
I wish it was a very dream
long and very deep
a dream that will last until death!...
I would dream of my love and yours.
V rhyme
nameless spirit,
indefinable essence,
I live with life
without forms of the idea.
I swim in the void
of the sun I tremble in the bonfire
I flutter in the shadows
and I float with the mists.
I am the golden fringe
from the distant star,
I am from the high moon
warm and serene light.
I am the burning cloud
that waves in the sunset;
I am from the wandering star
the luminous wake
I am snow on the peaks,
I am fire in the sands
blue wave in the seas
and foam on the banks.
I am a note on the lute,
perfume in the violet,
leaking flame in the graves
and in the ruins ivy.
I thunder in the torrent,
and whistle in the spark
and blind in the lightning
and I roar in the storm.
I laugh in the alcores
whisper in the tall grass,
sigh in the pure wave
and I cry in the dry leaf.
I undulate with the atoms
from the smoke that rises
and to the sky slowly rises
in a huge spiral
I in the golden threads
that insects hang
I blend between the trees
in the hot nap.
I run after the nymphs
than in the cool stream
of the crystalline stream
naked play
I in a coral forest, that
carpet white pearls,
I chase in the ocean
the light naiads.
I, in the concave caverns,
where the sun never penetrates,
mixing with the nomes
I behold his riches.
I search for centuries
the already erased traces,
and I know of those empires
of which not even the name remains.
I continue in rapid vertigo
the worlds that turn,
and my pupil encompasses
the entire creation.
I know of those regions
where rumor does not reach,
and where the astro reports
of life and breath await.
I am over the abyss
the bridge that crosses;
I am the unknown scale
that heaven unites with earth.
I am the invisible
ring that holds
the world of form
to the world of ideas.
I, in short, am the spirit,
unknown essence,
mysterious scent
of which the poet is a vessel.
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