Photography: Agrelo Beach. Bueu. Ría de Pontevedra. (c) Mariola Díaz-Cano.

Today, March 21, the International Poetry Day. What better time to celebrate with the spring just released, even if it is still cold. Those of us who are more prosaic and prosaic also have our little poetic heart that we air from time to time or need to make it beat. So I've shaken mine a bit and selected these 6 poems among the too many that are and remove it from me.

Conclusion classics and from various eras. Of our imperishable homelands Quevedo, garcilaso, Gutierre de Cetina y Rosalia de Castro. And from the British Rudyard Kipling and Robert Burns. Sure you know them, but they can be read without rest. So yes, may we never lack poetry.

• Francis of Quevedo

Can close my eyes

• Garcilaso de la Vega

Sonnet V

Your gesture is written in my soul,
and how much I want to write about you;
you wrote it by yourself, I read it
so alone, that even of you I keep myself in this.

In this I am and always will be;
that although it does not fit in me how much I see in you,
of so much good what I don't understand I think,
already taking faith for budget.

I was not born except to love you;
my soul has cut you to its measure;
out of habit of the soul itself I love you.

When I have I confess I owe you;
I was born for you, for you I have life,
for you I must die, and for you I die.

• Gutierre de Cetina

Clear, serene eyes (Madrigal)

Clear, serene eyes
if you are praised with a sweet look,
Why, if you look at me, do you look angry?
If the more pious,
you seem more beautiful to the one who looks at you,
do not look at me with anger,
because you do not seem less beautiful.
Oh, raging torments!
Clear, serene eyes
since you look at me that way, look at me at least.

• Rosalia de Castro

They say that plants do not speak, nor fountains, nor birds

They say that plants do not speak, nor fountains, nor birds,
Neither he waves with his rumors, nor with his brightness the stars,
They say it, but it is not true, because always when I pass,
Of me they murmur and exclaim:
There goes the crazy dreaming
With the eternal spring of life and fields,
And very soon, very soon, her hair will be gray,
And she sees, trembling, chilled, that frost covers the meadow.

There are gray hairs on my head, there is frost in the meadows,
But I go on dreaming, poor, incurable sleepwalker,
With the eternal spring of life that is fading
And the perennial freshness of fields and souls,
Although some are withered and although others are burned.

Stars and fountains and flowers, do not murmur about my dreams,
Without them, how to admire you or how to live without them?

• Rudyard Kipling

Yes…

If you can keep your head when everything around you
lose yours and they blame you for it;
If you can trust yourself when everyone doubts you,
but you also admit their doubts;
If you can wait without getting tired of waiting,
or, being deceived, do not pay with lies,
or, being hated, not giving way to hatred,
and yet not seem too good, nor speak too wisely;

If you can dream-and not make dreams your teacher;
If you can think-and not make thoughts your goal;
If you can meet triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors exactly the same
If you can bear to hear the truth that you've told
twisted by wicked to make a fool's trap,
Or see broken the things that you have put in your life
and bend over and rebuild them with worn out tools;

If you can make a lot with all your winnings
and risk it to a stroke of chance,
and lose, and start over from the beginning
and never say a word about your loss;
If you can strain your heart and nerves and tendons
to play your turn long after they have been spent
and so keep you when there is nothing left inside you
except the Will that says to them: "Resist!"

If you can talk to crowds and keep your virtue
or walk with kings and not lose common sense;
If neither enemies nor dear friends can hurt you;
If they all count on you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgettable minute
with a journey of sixty precious seconds.
Yours is the Earth and everything it contains,
and - what is more - you will be a Man, my son!

• Robert Burns

For the old days (Auld Lang Syne)

Should old friends be forgotten
and never remember them?
Should old friends be forgotten
and the old days?

For the old days my friend
for the old times:
we will have a glass of camaraderie
for the old times.

We both have run down the slopes
and plucked the beautiful daisies,
but we've been wrong a lot with sore feet
since the old days.

For the old days my friend
for the old times:
we will have a glass of camaraderie
for the old times.

We have both waded the stream
from noon to dinner,
but wide seas have roared between us
since the old days.

For the old days my friend
for the old times:
we will have a glass of camaraderie
for the old times.

And here is a hand, my faithful friend,
and give us one of your hands,
and let's have a hearty drink of beer
for the old times!

For the old days my friend
for the old times:
we will have a glass of camaraderie
for the old times.

And surely you will pay for your drink.
And I'm sure I'll pay mine ...
And, even so ... we will have that drink of camaraderie
for the old times!