24 junio, 2024

10 Poems about the Sea by Known Authors

The poems about the sea they are a tribute to the large bodies of salt water that cover most of the planet. Much has been written about the seas, both in scientific and poetic fields.

However, due to its vastness, there are many mysteries that still remain. This has contributed to the fact that poems about the sea abound in literature.

poems about the sea

Below is a selection of poems about the sea by five renowned poets.

I remember the sea Pablo Neruda

Chilean, have you been to the sea in this time?

Walk in my name, wet your hands and lift them up

and I from other lands will adore those drops

that fall from the infinite water on your face.

I know, I have lived all my coast,

the thick North Sea, from the moors, to

the stormy weight of the foam on the islands.

I remember the sea, the cracked and iron shores

of Coquimbo, the haughty waters of Tralca,

the lonely waves of the South, which created me.

I remember in Puerto Montt or on the islands, at night,

when returning by the beach, the waiting boat,

and our feet left fire in their footprints,

the mysterious flames of a phosphorescent god.

Each step was a trail of phosphorus.

We were writing the earth with stars.

And in the sea slipping the boat shook

a branch of marine fire, of fireflies,

an innumerable wave of waking eyes

once and went back to sleep in their abyss.

Sea – (Excerpt, Federico García Lorca)

The sea is
the Lucifer of blue.
heaven fallen
for wanting to be the light.

poor damned sea
to eternal movement,
having been before
still in the firmament!
but of your bitterness
Love redeemed you.
Pariste to pure Venus,
and your depth remained
virgin and painless

Your sadness is beautiful
sea ​​of ​​glorious spasms.
More today instead of stars
you have greenish octopuses.

bear your suffering,
formidable Satan.
Christ walked for you
but so did Pan.

Oceanfront – (Octavio Paz)

Does the wave have no shape?
In an instant it sculpts
and in another it crumbles
in which it emerges, round.
Its movement is its form.

the waves recede
hips, backs, necks?
but the waves return
Breasts, mouths, foams?

The sea dies of thirst.
It writhes, with no one,
in its bedrock.
He dies of thirst for air.

The sea – (Jorge Luis Borges)

Before sleep (or terror) wove
mythologies and cosmogonies,
before time was coined into days,
the sea, the always sea, already was and was.
Who is the sea? who is that violent
and ancient being that gnaws the pillars
of the earth and is one and many seas
and abyss and brightness and chance and wind?
Whoever looks at it sees it for the first time,
always. with the amazement that things
elementals leave, the beautiful
afternoons, the moon, the fire of a bonfire.
Who is the sea, who am I? I will know the day
that follows the agony.

The sea – (Excerpt, Mario Benedetti)

What is the incarnation of the wave?
Valerio Magelli

what is the sea definitely?
why seduce? why tempt?
usually invades us like a dogma
and forces us to be shore

swimming is a way to embrace it
to ask for revelations again
but the water blows are not magic
there are dark waves that drown the daring
and mists that confuse everything

the sea is an alliance or a sarcophagus
of infinity brings illegible messages
and ignored prints of the abyss
sometimes transmits a disturbing
tense and elemental melancholy

the sea is not ashamed of its castaways
totally lacking in conscience
and yet attracts tempts flame
lick the territories of the suicide
and tells stories with a dark ending.

The sea – (Raphael Alberti)

The sea. The sea.
The sea. Only the sea!
Why did you bring me, father,
to the city?
why did you dig me up
from sea?
In dreams the tidal wave
pulls my heart;
I would like to take it.
Father, why did you bring me
here? Moaning to see the sea,
a little sailor on land
put this lament into the air:
Oh my sailor blouse;
the wind always inflated it
upon spotting the breakwater!

The famous Ocean – (Vicente Huidobro)

The sea said to its waves
my daughters come back soon
I see from here the sphinxes balanced on the wire
I see a street lost in the eye of the dead
My daughters, take your letters and do not delay
Trees grow faster and faster
Faster and faster the waves die
The records of the head are beaten by the arms
The eyes are beaten by the ears
Only the voices still fight against the day.

Do you think he hears our voices?
The day so battered by the ocean
Do you think he understands the immense prayer of this water that creaks?
On his bones.

Look at the dying sky and the shavings of the sea
Look at the empty light like the one who abandoned his home
The ocean gets tired of brushing the beaches
To look with one eye at the bas-reliefs of the sky
With an eye as chaste as death to sleep
And falls asleep in her womb.

The ocean has grown from some waves
He dries his beard
Squeeze your comfortable coat
greet the sun in the same language
It has grown from a hundred waves.

This is due to their natural inclination
As natural as its green
Greener than the eyes that look at the grass
The herb of exemplary conduct

The sea laughs and beats its tail
It has grown from a thousand waves.

Tell me what you say, sea! – (Miguel de Unamuno)

Tell me what you say, sea, what you say, tell me!
But don’t tell me; your songs
They are, with the chorus of your various seas,
a single voice that sings moans.

That mere moan redeems us
of the fatal letter, and its sorrows,
under the waves of our hazards,
the secret oppresses us.

The unreason of our luck pays,
shut up the guilt and give us the punishment;
the life to which he was born does not forgive him;

of this enormous injustice be a witness,
That’s how my song with your song intones,
And don’t tell me what I don’t tell you.

Oceanfront – (Alfonsina Storni)

Oh sea, huge sea, fierce heart
Of uneven rhythm, bad heart,
I am softer than that poor stick
Let it rot in your prisoner waves.

Oh sea, give me your tremendous anger,
I spent my life forgiving,
Because I understood, sea, I gave myself away:
«Pity, mercy for the one who offends the most.»

Vulgarity, vulgarity haunts me.
Ah, they have bought me the city and the man.
Make me have your nameless anger:
This pink mission is already tiring me.

Do you see the vulgar? That vulgar embarrasses me
I lack air and where I lack I stay,
I would like not to understand, but I can’t:
It is the vulgarity that poisons me.

I became impoverished because understanding overwhelms,
I became impoverished because understanding suffocates,
Blessed is the strength of the rock!
I’ve got the heart like foam.

Mar, I dreamed of being like you are,
There in the afternoons that my life
Under the warm hours it opened…
Ah, I dreamed of being like you are.

Look at me here, little, miserable,
All pain defeats me, all dreams;
Sea, give me, give me the ineffable commitment
To become arrogant, unattainable.

Give me your salt, your iodine, your fierceness,
Sea air!… Oh storm, oh anger!
Unfortunate me, I am a caltrop,
And I die, sea, I succumb in my poverty.

And my soul is like the sea, that’s it,
Ah, the city rots and makes mistakes
Little life that causes pain,
That he can free me from his weight!

Fly my endeavor, my hope fly…
My life must have been horrible
It must have been an irrepressible artery
And it’s hardly a scar that always hurts.

Portuguese Sea – (Fernando Pessoa)

Oh salty sea, how much of your salt
they are tears of Portugal!
For crossing you, how many mothers cried,
how many children prayed in vain!
How many brides were left unmarried
so that you were ours, oh sea!

It was worth it? Everything is worth it
if the soul is not small
Who wants to go beyond the Boujador
it has to pass beyond the pain.
God gave the sea danger and the abyss,
but it was in him where the sky looked.

References

Neruda, P. (2004). General sing. Santiago de Chile: Pehuen Publishers.
Garcia Lorca, F. (1991). Poetry book. Valencia: NoBooks Editorial.
Peace, O. (1979). Poems (1935-1975). Barcelona: Seix Barral.
Borges, JL (2000). New personal anthology. Mexico City: 21st century.
Benedetti, M. (2015). By way of inventory. Madrid: Penguin Random House Publishing Group.

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