por We leave you a list of four-stanza poems by great authors such as Pablo Neruda, Mario Benedetti, Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer, Federico García Lorca, Rubén Darío, Juan Ramón Jiménez, José Martí, Lope de Vega and others.
A poem is a composition that uses the literary resources of poetry. It can be written in different ways, but it is generally in verse.
This means that it is made up of phrases or sentences written on separate lines and that are grouped into sections called stanzas. Each of these lines usually rhymes with each other, that is, a similar vowel sound, especially in the last word of the lines.
The length of the poems can be unlimited and is not governed by any rule. There are one-line poems and others that can fill several pages.
But it could be said that a standard extension is the one with 4 stanzas, since it is a length that allows the idea to be transmitted to be sufficiently developed.
It is common to associate poetry with love and romanticism, but it is good to clarify that a poem can be written on any subject. However, poetry has an intrinsic intention to communicate a stylized, sublime and beautiful idea.
Contemporary poetry has many licenses that sometimes do not allow the poems to fit into a certain structure. In this way, we find poems in prose, without rhyme, with verses or asymmetric stanzas, etc.
List of 4-stanza poems by famous authors
Woman’s Body
Woman’s body, white hills, white thighs,
you resemble the world in your attitude of delivery.
My wild peasant body undermines you
and makes the son jump from the bottom of the earth
I was just like a tunnel. the birds fled from me
and in me the night entered its powerful invasion.
To survive myself I forged you as a weapon
like an arrow in my bow, like a stone in my sling.
But the hour of revenge falls, and I love you.
Body of skin, of moss, of avid and firm milk.
Oh the glasses on the chest! Ah the eyes of absence!
Ah, the pubic roses! Ah your slow and sad voice!
Body of my woman, will persist in your grace.
My thirst, my limitless desire, my indecisive path!
Dark channels where the eternal thirst follows,
and the fatigue continues, and the infinite pain.
Author: Pablo Neruda
Vice versa
I’m afraid to see you, need to see you,
hope to see you, uneasiness to see you.
I want to find you, concern to find you,
certainty of finding you, poor doubts of finding you.
I have an urgency to hear you, joy to hear you,
good luck hearing you and fears hearing you.
In short, I’m fucked and radiant,
perhaps more the former than the latter and also vice versa.
Author: Mario Benedetti
For you to read with your gray eyes
For you to read with your gray eyes,
so that you can sing them with your clear voice,
so that they fill your chest with emotion,
I did my verses.
So that they find asylum in your chest
and give them youth, life, warmth,
three things that I cannot give you,
I did my verses.
To make you enjoy my joy,
so that you suffer with my pain,
so that you feel my life throb,
I did my verses.
To be able to put before your plants
the offering of my life and my love,
with soul, broken dreams, laughter, tears,
I did my verses.
From: Gustavo Adolfo Becquer
malagueña
Death
in and out
from the tavern
black horses pass
and sinister people
through the deep roads
of the guitar
And there’s a smell of salt
and female blood,
in feverish tuberose
of the Marine.
Death
in and out,
and goes out and goes in
the death of the tavern
Author: Federico Garcia Lorca
Farewell
If I die,
leave the balcony open.
The boy eats oranges.
(From my balcony I see it).
The reaper mowing wheat.
(From my balcony sorry).
If I die,
leave the balcony open!
Author: Federico Garcia Lorca
Old songs
Yo
At the time of the dew,
they come out of the mist
white sierra and green meadow.
The sun in the holm oaks!
Until erased in the sky,
the larks rise
Who put feathers on the field?
Who made wings of crazy land?
to the wind over the mountains,
has the golden eagle
the wide open wings.
on the pillory
where the river is born
over the turquoise lake
and the ravines of green pines;
over twenty villages,
over a hundred roads…
through the paths of the air,
lady eagle,
where are you going at full speed so early in the morning?
II
There was already a dawn of the moon
in the blue sky
The moon in the espartales,
near Alicún!
Round about the hill,
and broken in the murky waters
of the minor Guadiana.
Between Ubeda and Baeza
—hill of the two sisters:
Baeza, poor lady;
Úbeda, queen and gypsy.
And in the holm oak,
round and blessed moon,
always with me on par!
II
Near Úbeda la grande,
whose hills no one will see,
the moon was following me
on the olive grove
a panting moon,
always with me at the same time.
I thought: bandits
of my land!, when walking
on my light horse.
Someone with me will go!
that this moon knows me
and, with fear, it gives me
the pride of having been
ever captain.
IV.
In the Sierra de Quesada
there is a giant eagle,
greenish, black and gold,
always open wings.
It is made of stone and does not get tired.
Past Puerto Lorente,
between the clouds gallops
the mountain horse
It never gets tired: it’s rock.
In the depth of the ravine
the fallen rider is seen,
who raises his arms to heaven.
The arms are granite.
And there where no one climbs,
there is a laughing virgin
with a blue river in arms.
It is the Virgin of the Sierra.
Author: Antonio Machado
Spring Purpose
To Vargas Vila.
I offer myself to say hello and I force myself to celebrate
your triumph, Love, to the kiss of the season that arrives
While the white swan on the blue lake sails
In the magical park of my witness triumphs.
Love, your golden sickle has reaped my wheat;
for you I am flattered by the soft sound of the Greek flute,
and for you Venus prodigal gives me her apples
and offers me the pearls of fig honey.
On the erect term I place a crown
in which purple detonates from fresh roses;
and while the water sings under the dark wood,
next to the teenager who started the mystery
I will rush, alternating with your sweet exercise,
the golden amphoras of the divine Epicurus.
Author: Ruben Dario
smoke shadow
Shadow smoke across the meadow!
And it goes so fast!
Don’t give time to research
to retain the past!
Terrible shade of myth
that takes me from myself,
is it a lever
to sink into infinity?
mirror that undoes me
while I am seeing myself in it,
man starts dying
from the moment he is born.
The beam of the soul smokes you
of the smoke when going into the shade,
with his secret he amazes you
and with his amazement he overwhelms you.
Author: Miguel de Unamuno
rhyme 1
Why those lilies that the ice kills?
Why those roses that the sun withers?
Why those birds that without flight
do they die down?
Why does heaven waste so many lives
that are not from other new link?
Why was your pure blood dyke
your poor heart
Why didn’t our bloods mix
of love in Holy Communion?
Why you and me, Teresa of my soul
we didn’t give granazón?
Why, Teresa, and why were we born?
Why and what did we both go for?
Why and for what is everything nothing?
Why did God make us?
Author: Miguel de Unamuno
dark and agile girl
Dark and agile girl, the sun that makes the fruits,
the one who curdles the wheat, the one who twists the algae,
made your body happy, your luminous eyes
and your mouth that has the smile of water.
A black and anxious sun wraps around your strands
of the black mane, when you stretch out your arms.
You play with the sun as with a estuary
and he leaves two dark pools in your eyes.
Dark and agile girl, nothing towards you brings me closer.
Everything from you takes me away, like noon.
You are the delirious youth of the bee,
the intoxication of the wave, the force of the spike.
My gloomy heart searches for you, however,
and I love your happy body, your loose and thin voice.
Sweet and definitive brown butterfly,
like the wheat field and the sun, the poppy and the water.
Author: Pablo Neruda
a rose and milton
Of the generations of roses
that in the depths of time have been lost
I want one to be saved from oblivion,
one without mark or sign among things
what they were destiny holds me
this gift of naming for the first time
that silent flower, the last
rose that Milton brought to his face,
without seeing her Oh you red or yellow
or a white rose from an erased garden,
magically leave your past
immemorial and in this verse shines,
gold, blood or ivory or dark
as in his hands, invisible pink.
Author: Jorge Luis Borges
What in sonorous verse and sweet rhyme
Those who in sonorous verse and sweet rhyme
you make a concert to listen poet
versifier in the form of a baton,
that to every address number print,
hear from a chaos the raw material
not cultured as recipe figures,
that in pure, easy, clean and clear language,
I invent, Amor writes, lime time.
These, in short, relics of the flame
sweet that burned me, if useful
They were not for sale, nor for fame,
May my happiness be such that, to his spite,
bring me in the carton who desamas me
That her beautiful chest is enough for laurel.
Author: Lope de Vega
The rain
Suddenly the afternoon has cleared
Because the minute rain is already falling.
Fall or fell rain is a thing
That certainly happens in the past.
He who hears it fall has recovered
The time when blissful luck
He revealed to her a flower called a rose
And the curious color of red.
This rain that blinds the windows
It will cheer up in lost suburbs
The black grapes of a certain vine
Courtyard that no longer exists. the wet
Late brings me the voice, the desired voice,
From my father who returns and who has not died.
Author: Jorge Luis Borges
to the flowers
These that were pomp and joy
waking up at the dawn of the morning,
in the afternoon they will be a vain pity
sleeping in the arms of the cold night.
This nuance that defies heaven,
Striped iris of gold, snow and scarlet,
It will be a lesson to human life:
So much can be done in a day!
The roses rose early to bloom,
and to grow old they flourished:
Cradle and grave in a button they found.
Such men their fortunes saw:
in one day they were born and expired;
that past the centuries, hours were.
Author: Calderon de la Barca
sleep peacefully
You said the word that falls in love
To my ears. You already forgot. Well.
sleep peacefully must be serene
And beautiful your face at all times.
When enchanting the seductive mouth
It must be fresh, its pleasant to say;
It’s not good for your trade as a lover
The burned face of which much cries.
They claim you more glorious destinies
That the one to carry, among the black wells
Of the dark circles, the look in mourning.
Cover of beautiful victims the floor!
More damage to the world did the foolish sword
Of some barbarian king And he has a statue
Author: Alfonsino Storni
sonnet 1
When I stop to contemplate my state
and to see the steps through which it has brought me,
I find, according to where I was lost,
that it could have come to a greater evil;
But when I’m forgotten about the road,
I don’t know why I came to so much evil:
I know that it’s over, and more I have felt
See my care end with me.
I will finish, that I gave myself without art
who will know how to lose me and finish me off,
if he wants, and he will still know what to do:
that my will can kill me,
yours, which is not so much from me,
being able, what will he do but do it?
Author: Garcilaso de Vega
I enjoy the touch
I am alive and I play.
I play, I play, I play.
And no, I’m not…