11 junio, 2024

10 Poems about the Sun by Great Authors

The poems about the sun pay a well-deserved tribute to the star king. Human beings, even before the formation of the first civilizations, have felt a fascination for this celestial body.

From their very particular way of understanding the world, poets have dedicated many verses to highlight its importance.

poems about the sun

The poems about the sun by well-known authors are numerous. Even some recognized poets have two or more works dedicated to the star king. Of the five poems in this selection, the one by Rafael Alberti stands out for being a composition aimed at children.

The sun is a balloon of fire (Antonio Machado)

The sun is a balloon of fire
the moon is a purple disk.
A white dove perches
in the tall centenary cypress.
The paintings of myrtle seem
of withered hairy dusty.
The garden and the quiet afternoon!…
The water sounds in the marble fountain.

tropic sun (Excerpt, Gabriela Mistral)

Sun of the Incas, sun of the Mayas,
mature american sun,
sun in which mayans and quiches
they recognized and adored,
and in which old aimaraes
like amber they were burned.
red pheasant when you lift
and when you mediate, white pheasant,
sun painter and tattoo artist
of caste of man and of leopard.

Sun of mountains and valleys,
of the abysses and the plains,
Rafael of our marches,
golden hound of our steps,
over all land and all sea
saint and sign of my brothers.
If we get lost, let them look for us
in some scorched slimes,
where is the breadfruit tree
and the balsam tree suffers.

Sun (Juan Ramon Jimenez)

THERE in the background
from my library,
the last-minute sun, which confuses
my colors in clear and divine light,
caresses my books, sweetly.

What clear company
yours; how it enlarges
the room, and turns it, full,
in valley, in sky – Andalusia! -,
in childhood, in love!

Just like a child, like a dog,
walk from book to book
doing what you want…
When, suddenly, I look at him,
He stops, and looks at me for a long time,
with divine music, with friendly barking, with fresh babbling…

Then it fades…
The divine and pure light
It’s color again, and alone, and mine.
And what I feel dark
is my soul, just like
if he had stayed again
without its valley and its sky – Andalusia! -,
without his childhood and his love.

hymn to the sun (Excerpt, José María Heredia)

In the wastes of the sea, where you dwell,
Rise up, oh Muse! your eloquent voice
The infinite surrounds your forehead,
The infinite supports your feet.
Come: to the harsh roar of the waves
An accent so fierce and sublime,
May my warm chest revive,
And my forehead lights up again.

The stars around go out,
The east is colored pink,
And the shadow embraces the West
And to the distant clouds of the south:
And from the east on the vague horizon,
How confused and dense it was,
A splendid, immense portico rises,
Of gold, purple, fire and blue.

Long live the morning sun! (Rafael Alberti)

Long live the morning sun!
Long live the sun!,
cries the bird on the branch.

And the farmer sings:
Long live the sun!

And the overwhelmed little orange
of oranges: Long live the sun!

And the roof of the house:
Long live the sun!

And the horse that feels it,
warm grass, in the throat:
Long live the sun!

Long live the sun! the river rises,
and the passing flag:
Long live the sun!

All the earth is a ¡Viva!
the whole world, a jungle:
Long live the sun!

Sun (Pablo Neruda)

A long time ago, far away
I set foot in a country so clear
that until night was phosphorescent:
I keep hearing the rumor of that light,
round amber is the whole sky:
blue sugar rises from the sea.

Again, you know, and forever
I add and add light to patriotism:
my duties are hard during the day:
I must deliver and open new windows,
establish undefeated clarity
and even if they don’t understand me, continue
my glassware propaganda.

I don’t know why it’s up to a mourner
of origin, a product of winter,
to a provincial with the smell of rain
this reverberating profession.

Sometimes I think of imitating humility
and ask them to forgive my happiness
but I don’t have time: it is necessary
get there early and run elsewhere
for no other reason than today’s light,
my own light or night light:
and when I already extended the clarity
at that point or any other
They tell me it’s dark in Peru
that the light did not come out in Patagonia.

And without being able to sleep I must leave:
Why would I learn to be transparent?

Today, this open noon flies
with all the bees of light:
the distance is a single drink,
to the clear territory of my life.

And the sun shines towards Valparaíso.

The cage (Alejandra Pizarnik)

Outside there is sun.
It’s just a sun
but men look at him
and then they sing.

I don’t know about the sun.
I know the angel’s melody
and the hot sermon
of the last wind
I know how to scream until dawn
when death poses naked
in my shadow

I cry under my name.
I wave handkerchiefs at night
and ships thirsty for reality
they dance with me
I hide nails
to mock my sick dreams.

Outside there is sun.
I dress in ashes.

the sun has broken (Federico Garcia Lorca)

the sun has broken
among copper clouds
A soft air comes from the blue mountains.
In the meadow of heaven,
between star flowers,
the moon is growing
like a golden hook.

Through the field, (waiting for the throngs of souls),
I am loaded with sorrow.
For him I walk alone.
but my heart
a rare dream sings
of a hidden passion
in bottomless distance.

echoes of white hands
on my cold forehead,
passion that will mature
with tears in my eyes!

We were the chosen of the sun (Vicente Huidobro)

We were the chosen of the sun
and we didn’t realize
we were chosen by the highest star
and we did not know how to respond to his gift
anguish of impotence
the water loved us
the jungles were ours
ecstasy was our own space
your look was the universe face to face
your beauty was the sound of dawn
spring loved by trees
Now we’re contagious sadness
an early death
the soul that does not know where it is
winter in the bones without lightning
and all this because you did not know what eternity is
nor did you understand the soul of my soul in its ship of darkness
on his wounded eagle throne of infinity.

Sun (Excerpt, José de Espronceda)

Stop and hear me oh sun! I greet you
and ecstatic before you I dare to speak to you:
burning like you my fantasy
caught up in the desire to admire you
fearless to you their guiding wings.
Hopefully my powerful accent,
sublime echoing,
of the terrifying thunder
the fearful voice rising above,
oh sun! it will come to you
and in the middle of your course it will stop you!
oh! If the flame that my mind illuminates
It also gave its ardor to my senses;
to the victorious ray that dazzles them,
The longing eyes I would lift,
and in your bright daring countenance,
looking endlessly, I would fix them.
How much I always loved you, shining sun!
With what simple longing,
being an innocent child
I yearned to follow you in the stretched-out sky,
and ecstatic I saw you
and in contemplating your light I was absorbed!


Machado, A. (1990). How easy it is to fly. Buenos Aires: Colihue SRL Editions.
Mistral, G. (1985).Tala. Santiago de Chile: Pehuen Publishers.
Jimenez, JR (1983). The unseen reality. London: Thames.
Heredia, JM (2012). poems. Barcelona: Linkgua digital.
Alberti, R. (1988). Poetry: 1939-1963. Madrid: Aguilar.

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