León Felipe was born on a day like today in Zamora in 1884. From a good family and with influences, he studied Pharmacy and worked as such for several years. It was already 30 when he took his first steps in the lyric. Later he went to Mexico and it was there that he died. Today I select 6 poems of his work to read in your memory.
6 poems
Spanish
Spanish from yesterday's exodus
and Spanish from today's exodus:
you will save yourself as a man,
but not like Spanish.
You have no country or tribe. Yes you can,
sink your roots and your dreams
in the ecumenical rain of the sun.
And stand up… Stand up!
That maybe the man of this time ...
he is the movable man of light,
of the exodus and the wind.
Overdue
Through the plain of La Mancha
the figure is seen again
Don Quixote pass.
And now idle and dented the armor goes on the dark,
and the gentleman goes idle, without breastplate and without back,
it is loaded with bitterness,
that there he found a grave
his loving battle.
It is loaded with bitterness,
that there "was his fortune"
on the beach of Barcino, facing the sea.
Through the plain of La Mancha
the figure is seen again
Don Quixote pass.
It is loaded with bitterness,
the knight, defeated, goes back to his place.
How many times, Don Quixote, on that same plain,
In hours of discouragement I watch you go by!
And how many times do I shout to you: Make a place for me in your mount
and take me to your place;
make a place for me in your saddle,
defeated knight, make a place for me on your mount
that I'm also loaded
of bitterness
and I can't fight!
Put me on the back with you,
knight of honor,
put me on the back with you,
and take me to be with you
Shepherd.
Through the plain of La Mancha
the figure is seen again
Don Quixote pass ...
I know all the stories
I do not know many things, it's true.
I only say what I've seen.
And I've seen:
that the cradle of man is rocked with stories,
that the cries of anguish of man drown them with stories,
that the cry of man is covered with stories,
that the bones of man bury them with stories,
and that the fear of man ...
has made up all the stories.
I do not know many things, it's true,
but they have slept me with all the stories ...
And I know all the stories.
The pain
I have not come to sing
I have not come to sing, you can take the guitar with you.
I have not come either, nor am I here fixing my file
to be canonized when I die.
I have come to look at my face in the tears that walk towards the sea,
by the river
and by the cloud ...
and in the tears that hide
In the well,
at night
and in the blood ...
I have come to look at my face in all the tears in the world.
And also to put a drop of quicksilver, of tears,
even a drop of my crying
on the great moon of this boundless mirror, where
[Look at me and recognize those who come.
I have come to hear again this old sentence in the darkness:
You will earn your bread with the sweat of your brow
"And the light with the pain in your eyes."
Your eyes are the sources of tears and light.
Revolution
There will always be haughty snow
what to see the ermine mount
and humble water that works
at the mill dam.
And there will always be a sun too
?? an executioner sun and friend ??
let the snow cry into tears
and the river water in a cloud.
Like you
This is my life
stone,
like you. Like you,
small stone;
like you,
light stone;
like you,
I sing what wheels
along the roads
and along the sidewalks;
like you,
humble cobblestone of the highways;
like you,
that on stormy days
you sink
in the mire of the earth
and then
you twinkle
under the helmets
and under the wheels;
like you, who have not served
to be no stone
from a fish market,
no stone from an audience,
nor stone from a palace,
no stone from a church;
like you,
adventure stone;
like you,
that maybe you're done
just for a sling,
small stone
y
light ...