Miguel Hernandez Poems

Death, in a bull's pelt,
full of the holes and horns of its own
undoing, grazes and tramples
...

For un-feathering the glacial archangels,
the barbed-lily snowfall of slender teeth
is condemned to the weeping of fountains
...

It would have been less painful if it had been
nard your complexion to my gaze, nard,
thistle your skin to my touch, thistle,
...

1
Un carnívoro cuchillo
de ala dulce y homicida
sostiene un vuelo y un brillo
...

The cemetery is near
where you and I are sleeping,
between blue prickly-pears,
blue agaves and children,
...

The sun, the rose, and the child
were born the flowers of the day.
Things of every day
...

You threw me a lemon, so bitter,
with a hand warm and so pure,
that its shape was not spoiled,
...

They never departed
the garden of embraces.
And round the red rose
of kisses they travelled.
...

Do you recall that throat, call up a memory
of former privilege, of that former matter
that was, almond-like, white and lovely,
...

I have a need for your voice,
a longing for your company,
and an ache of melancholy
for the absence of signs of arrival.
...