20 Latin American Poems to Dedicate to The Love of Your Life - Love Quotes Blog

When words are missing to describe what we feel and steal all our attention, when we are unable to describe that fire inside us that fills us with life, we can always turn to writers who have transcended history with the echo of their words.

Be it love, heartbreak, hope or emotions that arise from within us we must admit that we find some peace and quiet when reading something with which we can identify. And is that finding in the words the thoughts that cloud our mind and seeing them accommodated in a sense that our head does not know, is comforting. In the history of literature, specifically poetry, Latin America has been the cradle of some of the most beautiful verses, born from the explosive glow of the hearts of men and women who have left part of themselves in the words printed and reprinted.

In order to honor those who have reaffirmed the most beautiful of the human being and to give you the verses you need at this time, we share a series of 20 Latin American poems to dedicate to that special person.
Semicolon
Monica Lavin

Seduce me with your commas, with your spaced caresses, your breathable breath and your continuous daring; put the point and top to change the caresses for long kisses and whispered phrases word of mouth. Make a point and followed to slide in me and contemplate my nakedness on your bed, now interrupt with dashes to release a compliment on my body and its imprint on yours - to look with the eye the waist and the sinking in the waist, the ascent on the hip, the long extension of the legs topped by a foot that you can't resist kissing. Attack me without my rejection and torture me with the pride of your desire dragging me far away (on the edge of the abyss in brackets and without commas please), now unsheathe your ellipses ... - Damn trio of points - that nameless space is not reached.

A separate point to calm the tremor of my body and smile at the same time you give me the sparkling wine in a glass. I delete my questions. A whole prelude to resume your commas and give me the moisture of your mouth and the softness of your breathing in my ears, neck, neck, shoulders; attack with dots and commas again to find a congested clitoris with your finger, pass your tongue between the hidden lips and savor my secretions - steal them between dashes - and poke again in my burning center occupying it, holding the ascent Imminent! with exclamation marks, the inevitable ejaculation ... until the ellipsis ends and emptying everything in me and collapsing exhausted, relieved and loving in my pleased body.

Again a point and apart to sleep on my chest and puts an end to the quotation "act" which in this case is a loving event without any sign of acting.

If I am wrong, I congratulate your mastery of the score.

Final point.

***


Absent
Cesar Vallejo

Absent! The morning I leave

farther from the distance, to the Mystery,

as following inevitable stripe,

Your feet will slide to the cemetery.


Absent! The morning when to the beach

from the sea of ​​shadow and the quiet empire,

Like a gloomy bird I leave

The white pantheon will be your captivity.


It will have become night in your eyes;

and you will suffer, and you will take then

penitent white lacerated.


Absent! And in your own sufferings

has to cross between a cry of bronzes

a pack of regrets!

***



Beautifull
Eduardo Lizalde


And if one of those angels

I will suddenly be close to his heart

I would succumb drowned by its existence

more powerful

Rilke again



Hear me, beautiful,

I can't stand his love

Look at me, see how

Your love damages and destroys.

If you were a little less beautiful,

If I had a defect somewhere,

a mutilated and obvious finger,

Something quick in the voice

a small scar next to those lips

of moving fruit,

a freckle in the soul,

a bad imperceptible brushstroke

in the smile ...

I could tolerate it.

***



Farewell
Jorge Luis Borges

Between my love and I have to get up

three hundred nights as three hundred walls

And the sea will be a magic among us.


There will be only memories.

Oh deserved afternoons,

Hopeful nights to look at you

fields of my path, firmament

that I am seeing and losing ...

Definitive as a marble

your absence will sadden other afternoons.

[Poems by Jorge Luis Borges]

***



And our bread
Juan Carlos Onetti

I only know about you

the gioconda smile

with separate lips

the mistery

my stubborn obsession

to reveal it

and move forward

and surprised

feeling your past

I only know

the sweet milk of your teeth

placid and mocking milk

that separates me

and forever

of imagined paradise

of the impossible tomorrow

of peace and silent bliss

of coat and shared bread

of some everyday object

that I could call

our.

***

You are love
Efrain Huerta

You are, love, the arm with wounds

and the false tread on a sky.


You're the one who sleeps, lonely,

In the little forest of my chest.


You are, love, the flower of the false name.


You are the old cry and sadness,

loneliness and the river of virtue,

the brutal flutter of insomnia

and the sacrifice of a blind night.


You are, love, the flower of the false name,


You are a fragile nest, poison enclosure,

merciless mercy, fallen angel,

plastered candor of adolescence

That would have passed like a dream.


You are, love the flower of the false name.

You are what kills me, what drowns

The small ideal of living.


You are hopeless, sad statue

of dust nothing more, of deaf envy.

You are, love, the flower of the false name.

***



A love letter
Julio Cortazar

Everything I want from you

it's so little deep down

because deep down it's all


like a passing dog, a hill,

those things of nothing, everyday,

spike and hair and two lumps,

the smell of your body,

what you say about anything,

with me or against me,


all that is so little

I what I want from you because I love you.


That you look beyond me

That you love me with violent disregard

of tomorrow, that the scream

of your delivery crashes

in the face of an office manager,


and that the pleasure that together we invented

Be another sign of freedom.

***



Tactic and strategy
Mario Benedetti

My tactic is

look at you

learn how you are

love you as you are

my tactic is

talk to you

and listen to you

build with words

an indestructible bridge

my tactic is

stay in your memory

I do not know how

i don't know

under what pretext

but stay in you

my tactic is

be frank

and know that you are frank

and that we don't sell ourselves

drills

so that between the two

no curtain

no chasms

my strategy is

instead

deeper and simpler

my strategy is

that one day

I do not know how

i don't know

under what pretext

at last

you need me

***



Mine
Ruben Dario

Mine: that's your name.

What more harmony?

Mine: daylight;

mine: roses, flames.


What a spill aroma

in my soul

If I know you love me!

Oh my! Oh my!


Your s** melted

with my strong s**,

melting two bronzes.


I sad, you sad ...

Don't you have to be then

mine until death?

***



Absence of love
Juan Gelman

How will it be I ask

What will it be like to touch you by my side.

I'm crazy about the air

I'm not going.


What will it be like to go to bed

in your country of breasts so far away.

I walk from poor Christ to your memory

nailed, reclaimed.


It will be as it is.

Maybe my whole body explodes

what i have expected

You will then eat me sweetly piece by piece.


I will be what I should.

Your foot. Your hand.

***
I think of you
José Batres Montúfar


I think of you, you live in my mind

alone, fixed, truceless, at all times,

although perhaps the indifferent face

don't let reflect on my forehead

The flame that silently devours me.

In my lobrega and yerta fantasy

shine your gentle and pure image,

Like the ray of light that the sun sends

through a gloomy vault

to the broken marble of a grave.

Silent, inert, in deep stupor,

my heart gets seized and alienated

and there in its center it vibrates dying

when in the vain crash of the world

The melody of your name sounds.

No fight, no desire and no regret,

without stirring in blind frenzy,

without uttering a single, a slight accent,

the long hours of the night I count

And I think of you!

***



study
Carlos Pellicer

I barely know you and I already say to myself:

Will you never know that your person exalts

Everything in me of blood and fire?


As if it were a lot

wait a few days - many, few? -

because all hope

It looks like South Sea, deep, long!

And because we are always

Fruits of forest impatience all.

I barely know you and I already swept

cities, clouds and travel landscapes,

and stunned, I suddenly discover

I'm inside the present stone

and that in the sky there is still no clouds.


How will these words be new?

when next to you, fly away

and in the accent of your hands see

the ineffable limit of space.

***



See it again
Gabriela Mistral

And never, never again, not even on full nights

of star tremor, not even in the dawn

virgins, not even on immolated afternoons?


On the sidelines of no pale path,

that encircles the field, apart from any

trembling fontana, moon white?


Under the braids of the jungle,

where calling him has got me dark

Not even in the grotto that my scream returns?


Oh no,! See it again, no matter where,

in backwaters of heaven or in a kettle vortex,

under placid moons or in a horror cardinal!


And be with him all the springs

and winters, in an anguished

knot, around his bloodied neck!

***




I love you because you have ...
Jaime Sabines

I love you because you have

the parts of the woman in the right place

And you are complete.

You don't need a petal,

Not a smell, not a shadow.

Placed in your soul,

ready to be dew in the grass of the world,

Moon milk in the dark leaves.

Maybe you see me

maybe, maybe one day,

in a lamp off,

in a corner of the room where you sleep,

I'm the stain, a point on the wall

some line that your eyes, without you,

They keep watching.


Maybe you recognize me

like an old hour

When you ask questions alone, you ask yourself

With the body closed and unanswered.


I am a scar that no longer exists,

A kiss already washed by time,

One love and another love you already buried.

But you are in my hands and you have me

and in your hands I am, coal, ash,

To dry your tears I cry.


Where, where, at what time

Will you tell me that I love you? This is urgent

because eternity is running out.

Pick up my head Save your arm

With which I loved your waist. Do not leave Me

in the middle of your blood on that towel.

[Jaime Sabines poems to make the right woman fall in love]

***



To Leonor
Loved nerve


Your hair is black like the wing

of the mystery; as black as a gloomy

never, like a goodbye, like a <who knows!>

But there is something even blacker: your eyes!



Your eyes are two thoughtful magicians,

two sphinxes sleeping in the shade,

two very beautiful riddles ... but there is something,

but there is something even more beautiful: your mouth.



Your mouth, oh yes !; your mouth, made divinely

for love, for warm

communion of love, your young mouth;

but there is something even better: your soul!


Your soul collected, silent,

of pieties as deep as the piélago,

of tenderness so deep ...

But there is something,

but there is something even deeper: your dream!

***

Poem 14
Pablo Neruda

You play every day with the light of the universe.

Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and in the water.

You're more than this white head that I squeeze

Like a bunch in my hands every day


You don't look like anyone since I love you.

Let me lay you among yellow garlands.

Who writes your name with smoke letters among the southern stars?

Ah let me remind you how you were then, when you didn't exist yet.


Suddenly the wind howls and hits my closed window.

The sky is a network of shadowy fish curd.

Here come all the winds, everyone.

The rain undresses.


The birds run away.

Wind. Wind.

I can only fight against the strength of men.

The temporary swirling dark leaves

and release all the boats that last night moored to the sky.


You're here. Ah you don't run away.

You will answer me until the last shout.

Cling to me as though you were frightened.

However, once a strange shadow ran through your eyes.


Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,

and you have even scented breasts.

While the sad wind gallops killing butterflies

I love you, and my joy bites your plum mouth.


How much it will hurt to get used to me,

to my soul alone and wild, to my name that everyone drives away.

We have seen the star burn so many times kissing our eyes

and upon our heads to twist the twilight into spinning fans.


My words rained over you, stroking you.

I loved your sunny mother-of-pearl body for a long time.

I even believe that you are the owner of the Universe.

I will bring you cheerful flowers, copihues from the mountains,

Dark hazelnuts, and wild kissing baskets.


I want to do with you

what spring does with cherry trees.

***



Ants
Ramon lopez velarde

To the warm life that passes canora

With a woman's hat without letters or masks,

To the undefeated beauty that saves and falls in love,

Answer, in the drunkenness of the enchanted hour,

A halo of ants in my voracious veins.


Fustigan the desman the perennial tingling

the well of silence and the swarm of noise,

Sliced ​​flour as double trophy

in the fertile busts, the Hell in which I believe,

the final rattle and the prelude to the nest.


But then my ants will deny me their hug

and they have to run from my poor and worked fingers

which forgets an icy bagasse in the sand;

and your mouth, which is a figure of erotic boldness,

your mouth, which is my rubric, my delicacy and my ornament,

your mouth, in which the tongue vibrates looming into the world

as reprobate calls out of an oven,

on a murky date of twin deer

where the moon goes around because I steal you,

It must smell like shroud and crushed grass,

to drugs and responds, to wick and wax.


Before they drop my ants, Beloved,

let them walk your mouth way

to hurry the per diem of the bloodthirsty fruit

that from Saracens oasis provokes me.


Before your lips die, to my mourning,

give them to me at the critical threshold of the cemetery

as perfume and bread and tósigo and cautery.

***



Your eyes
Octavio Paz

Your eyes are the homeland

of lightning and tear,

talking silence

windless storms,

sea ​​without waves, birds prisoners,

golden beasts numb,

ungodly topazes as the truth,

autumn in a forest glade

where the light sings on the shoulder

of a tree and birds are all leaves,

beach that morning
find constellated eyes,

fire fruit basket,

lie that feeds,

mirrors of this world,

doors from beyond,

calm pulsation of the sea at noon,

absolute flashing, wasteland.

***



This perfume
Salvador Novo

This intense perfume of your flesh,

it's nothing else

that the world they move and move

the blue balloons of your eyes,

and the earth and the blue rivers of the veins

That imprison your arms.

There are all round oranges

In your kiss of anguish,

sacrificed on the edge of an orchard where life

It was suspended for all the centuries of mine.


How remote was the infinite air

That filled our breasts!

I ripped you off the ground

For the drunken roots of your hands

and I've drunk you all, oh perfect and delicious fruit!

Already always when the sun feels my flesh,

I have to feel the rough contact of yours

born from the freshness of an unexpected dawn,

nurtured in the caress

of your clear and pure rivers like your embrace,

Sweet turn in the wind than in the afternoons

It comes from the mountains to your breath,

matured in the sun of your eighteen years,

Warm for me who was waiting for her.

***



Destination
Rosario Castellanos

We kill what we love. The rest

He has never been alive.

None is so close. No other hurts

a forgetfulness, an absence, sometimes less.

We kill what we love. What an end to this suffocation

to breathe with an alien lung!

The air is not enough

for both. And the earth is not enough

for the bodies together

and the ration of hope is little

And the pain cannot be shared.


Man is animated by solitudes,

deer with an arrow in the ijar

That runs away and bleeds.


Ah, but hate, your insomniac fixity

of glass pupils; his attidude

which is both rest and threat.


The deer is going to drink and appears in the water

The reflection of the tiger.


The deer drinks the water and the image. Becomes

–Before they devour it– (accomplice, fascinated)

Same as your enemy.

We give life only to what we hate.

***