Today is the day of poetry. Taking advantage of the March 18 ceelebró the centenary of the birth of Gabriel Celaya , I offer a poem by this famous poet, in which poetry appears as a theme.
Poetry is a weapon loaded with future
When personally expected nothing exciting, but it beats
and continues to this side of consciousness, there
fiercely, blindly asserted, as a pulse
hits darkness,
when viewed from the front
eyed the rapid death, are said
truths
the barbaric, terrible, loving cruelty.
poems are said to widen the lungs of those who, suffocated,
ask to be, call rate, call
law for what they feel excessive.
With the speed of instinct,
with the ray of wonder, magic
as evidence, the real is what makes us
identical to itself.
Poetry for the poor, needed poetry
as daily bread,
as the air that we demand thirteen times per minute,
to be and as we take a self-glorifying.
Because we live to shock, because hardly
let us say that we are who we are, our songs
can not be without sin an ornament.
We are touching the bottom.
curse poetry conceived as a luxury cultural
neutrals that washing their hands, they turn away and escape. Damn
poetry who does not take sides until staining.
I make my own faults. I feel in me who suffer breathing
and singing.
sing and sing, and singing beyond my personal
sentences I flange.
I give you life, bring new acts,
and technical calculations for it with what I can.
I am an engineer and a worker
verse works with others to Spain in their steels.
This is my poetry: poetry
tool while it unanimous and beat blind.
That is, a weapon loaded with future expansion
that I point to the chest.
poetry not intended dropwise.
It is a beautiful product. It is a perfect fruit.
It's like the air we all breathe the song
and spacing as in we.
words are all feeling
repeat as our own, and fly. They are more than what is meant.
are most needed: what has no name.
are cries in heaven and on earth are deeds.
When personally expected nothing exciting, but it beats
and continues to this side of consciousness, there
fiercely, blindly asserted, as a pulse
hits darkness,
when viewed from the front
eyed the rapid death, are said
truths
the barbaric, terrible, loving cruelty.
poems are said to widen the lungs of those who, suffocated,
ask to be, call rate, call
law for what they feel excessive.
With the speed of instinct,
with the ray of wonder, magic
as evidence, the real is what makes us
identical to itself.
Poetry for the poor, needed poetry
as daily bread,
as the air that we demand thirteen times per minute,
to be and as we take a self-glorifying.
Because we live to shock, because hardly
let us say that we are who we are, our songs
can not be without sin an ornament.
We are touching the bottom.
curse poetry conceived as a luxury cultural
neutrals that washing their hands, they turn away and escape. Damn
poetry who does not take sides until staining.
I make my own faults. I feel in me who suffer breathing
and singing.
sing and sing, and singing beyond my personal
sentences I flange.
I give you life, bring new acts,
and technical calculations for it with what I can.
I am an engineer and a worker
verse works with others to Spain in their steels.
This is my poetry: poetry
tool while it unanimous and beat blind.
That is, a weapon loaded with future expansion
that I point to the chest.
poetry not intended dropwise.
It is a beautiful product. It is a perfect fruit.
It's like the air we all breathe the song
and spacing as in we.
words are all feeling
repeat as our own, and fly. They are more than what is meant.
are most needed: what has no name.
are cries in heaven and on earth are deeds.
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