{"id":2892,"date":"2023-10-05T12:10:12","date_gmt":"2023-10-05T12:10:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/publiconsulting.com\/spanishclassicbooks\/?p=2892"},"modified":"2023-10-05T12:17:31","modified_gmt":"2023-10-05T12:17:31","slug":"miguel-hernandez-poet-1910-1942","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/publiconsulting.com\/spanishclassicbooks\/miguel-hernandez-poet-1910-1942\/","title":{"rendered":"Miguel Hernandez, poet (1910-1942)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Miguel Hernandez<\/a> was a 20th-century poet born and raised in a family of low resourcea. He was a self-educated goatherd from the tiny Spanish town of Orihuela (Alicante) who tried hard to be accepted among his older contemporaries, and struggled against an unfavourable environment to build up his intellectual education. At school, he became a friend of Ram\u00f3n Sij\u00e9, a well-educated boy who lent and recommended books to Hernandez, and whose death would inspire one of his most famous poem, Elegy<\/em> (see below).<\/p>\n

Deeply admired by poets from Lorca<\/a> to Neruda, the poems of Miguel Hernandez beam with a gentleness of heart. Lorca wrote to the young poet in 1933, telling him to stop struggling to get along in a ‘circle of literary pigs’. From his early formalism, paying homage to Gongora<\/a> and Quevedo<\/a>, to the final poems, which are passionate and bittersweet, Hernandez’ work is a dazzling reminder that force can never defeat spirit, and that courage is its own reward. Neruda called him ‘a great master of language… a wonderful poet’.<\/p>\n

Hernandez died of tuberculosis, imprisoned due to his active participation on the Republican side in the Spanish civil war: he was only 31. His last book, Cancionero y romancero de ausencias<\/a>, was published after his death, and is a collection of the poems he wrote in prison, some written in rudimentary pieces of toilet paper, others preserved in letters to his wife, is considered one of the finest pieces of Spanish poetry of the 20th century.<\/p>\n

Elegy<\/strong> (1936, included in the collection of poems El rayo que no cesa, The<\/em> Unending Lightning<\/i>)<\/p>\n

Translation by Don Share<\/a>
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

In Orihuela, his town and mine, like lightning<\/em>
\ndeath took Ram\u00f3n Sij\u00e9, whom I so loved<\/em><\/p>\n

I wish I was the gardener whose tears
\nwater the earth you fill and fertilize,
\nmy closest friend, so suddenly.<\/p>\n

With my useless grief nourishing the rains,
\nthe snails, and the body\u2019s organs,
\nI shall feed your heart<\/p>\n

to the wasting poppies.
\nGrief bunches up in my ribs
\nuntil just breathing is painful.<\/p>\n

A hard punch, a frozen fist,
\nan invisible, homicidal ax-blow,
\na brutal shove has knocked you down.<\/p>\n

Nothing gapes wider than my wound.
\nI cry over this disaster, over everything,
\nand feel your death more than my life.<\/p>\n

I walk over the stubble of the dead,
\nand without warmth or consolation from anyone
\nI leave my heart behind, and mind my business.<\/p>\n

Death flew off with you too soon,
\ndawn dawned too soon,
\nyou were put into earth too soon.<\/p>\n

I won\u2019t forgive lovestruck death,
\nI won\u2019t forgive this indifferent life,
\nI won\u2019t forgive the earth, or anything.<\/p>\n

In my hands a torrent of rocks
\nis brewing, lightning, vicious axes,
\nthirsting and starved for catastrophe.<\/p>\n

I want to carve up the earth with my teeth,
\nI want to break up the earth chunk by chunk
\nin dry fiery mouthfuls.<\/p>\n

I want to mine the earth till I find you,
\nand can kiss your noble skull,
\nungag and revive you.<\/p>\n

You\u2019ll come back to my orchard, and my fig tree:
\nhigh up in the blossoms your soul
\nwill flutter its wings, gathering<\/p>\n

the wax and honey of angelic hives.
\nYou\u2019ll come back to the plow\u2019s lullaby
\nof lovestruck farmhands.<\/p>\n

You\u2019ll bring light to my darkened face,
\nand your blood will have to pulse back and forth
\nbetween your bride and the bees.<\/p>\n

My greedy lovesick voice
\ncalls your heart, now crumpled velvet,
\nto a field of frothy almond sprays.<\/p>\n

I call you to come to the flying souls
\nof the milky blossoms because
\nwe have so many things to talk about,
\nmy friend, my very best friend.<\/p>\n

Eleg\u00eda <\/strong>(1936, inclu\u00eddo en el libro de poemas El rayo que no cesa<\/em>)
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

En Orihuela, su pueblo y el m\u00edo, se me ha muerto como el rayo Ram\u00f3n Sij\u00e9, con quien tanto quer\u00eda<\/em><\/p>\n

Yo quiero ser llorando el hortelano
\nde la tierra que ocupas y estercolas,
\ncompa\u00f1ero del alma, tan temprano.<\/p>\n

Alimentando lluvias, caracolas
\ny \u00f3rganos mi dolor sin instrumento,
\na las desalentadas amapolas<\/p>\n

dar\u00e9 tu coraz\u00f3n por alimento.
\nTanto dolor se agrupa en mi costado,
\nque por doler me duele hasta el aliento.<\/p>\n

Un manotazo duro, un golpe helado,
\nun hachazo invisible y homicida,
\nun empuj\u00f3n brutal te ha derribado.<\/p>\n

No hay extensi\u00f3n m\u00e1s grande que mi herida,
\nlloro mi desventura y sus conjuntos
\ny siento m\u00e1s tu muerte que mi vida.<\/p>\n

Ando sobre rastrojos de difuntos,
\ny sin calor de nadie y sin consuelo
\nvoy de mi coraz\u00f3n a mis asuntos.<\/p>\n

Temprano levant\u00f3 la muerte el vuelo,
\ntemprano madrug\u00f3 la madrugada,
\ntemprano est\u00e1s rodando por el suelo.<\/p>\n

No perdono a la muerte enamorada,
\nno perdono a la vida desatenta,
\nno perdono a la tierra ni a la nada.<\/p>\n

En mis manos levanto una tormenta
\nde piedras, rayos y hachas estridentes
\nsedienta de cat\u00e1strofes y hambrienta.<\/p>\n

Quiero escarbar la tierra con los dientes,
\nquiero apartar la tierra parte a parte
\na dentelladas secas y calientes.<\/p>\n

Quiero minar la tierra hasta encontrarte
\ny besarte la noble calavera
\ny desamordazarte y regresarte.<\/p>\n

Volver\u00e1s a mi huerto y a mi higuera:
\npor los altos andamios de las flores
\npajarear\u00e1 tu alma colmenera<\/p>\n

de angelicales ceras y labores.
\nVolver\u00e1s al arrullo de las rejas
\nde los enamorados labradores.<\/p>\n

Alegrar\u00e1s la sombra de mis cejas,
\ny tu sangre se ir\u00e1n a cada lado
\ndisputando tu novia y las abejas.<\/p>\n

Tu coraz\u00f3n, ya terciopelo ajado,
\nllama a un campo de almendras espumosas
\nmi avariciosa voz de enamorado.<\/p>\n

A las aladas almas de las rosas
\ndel almendro de nata te requiero,
\nque tenemos que hablar de muchas cosas,
\ncompa\u00f1ero del alma, compa\u00f1ero.<\/p>\n

In 1972 Joan Manuel Serrat<\/a> released an album with songs based on poems by Miguel Hernandez:<\/p>\n