Cesar Vallejo

(16 March 1892 – 15 April 1938 / La Libertad)

Cesar Vallejo Poems

Comments about Cesar Vallejo

  • Ánimo (9/20/2018 7:48:00 AM)

    Que SAF

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  • jJ Young (7/1/2018 3:57:00 PM)

    And it comes up snake eyes. C Vallejo. Poeta

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  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (4/20/2015 12:28:00 PM)

    César Vallejo is a great Poet, for sure, even if Thomas Merton called him ''he greatest universal poet since Dante'' (!) : an opinion I simply reckon as a negative mark of superficiality in T. Merton's curriculum..

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  • Jack Tricarico (3/27/2014 8:32:00 PM)

    The most unique and inspired poets I have ever read. Truly amazing!

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  • Gordon Nosworthy Gordon Nosworthy (3/27/2014 4:23:00 PM)

    the few poems rendered in english are fantastic
    i fervently hope someone has the time and skill to examine a few more
    from what i've seen - he's insightful

    10 person liked.
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  • Koena Mokoena Koena Mokoena (3/28/2012 4:52:00 AM)

    Black Stone on Top of a White Stone i think it is about reconciliation as it says with an example of two stones, hence i have no right to kill another person without an i am. Your correspondence will be highly appreciated.

    Have a nice day!

    Yours sincerely.
    Mr. Koena France Mokoena
    Country: South Africa
    Website: www.poemhunter.com/kfmproductions

    10 person liked.
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Best Poem of Cesar Vallejo

Black Stone On Top Of A White Stone

I shall die in Paris, in a rainstorm,
On a day I already remember.
I shall die in Paris-- it does not bother me--
Doubtless on a Thursday, like today, in autumn.

It shall be a Thursday, because today, Thursday
As I put down these lines, I have set my shoulders
To the evil. Never like today have I turned,
And headed my whole journey to the ways where I am alone.

César Vallejo is dead. They struck him,
All of them, though he did nothing to them,
They hit him hard with a stick and hard also
With the end of a rope. Witnesses are: the Thursdays,
The ...

Read the full of Black Stone On Top Of A White Stone

Los Heraldos Negros

Hay golpes en la vida tan fuertes . . . ¡Yo no se!
Golpes como del odio de Dios; como si ante ellos;
la resaca de todo lo sufrido se empozara en el alma
¡Yo no se!
Son pocos; pero son . . . abren zanjas oscuras
en el rostro mas fiero y en el lomo mas fuerte,
Serán talvez los potros de bárbaros atilas;
o los heraldos negros que nos manda la Muerte

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