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..

    37 person liked.
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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 Messengers. (Translation Of Los Heraldos Negros)

There are in life such hard blows . . . I don't know!
Blows seemingly from God's wrath; as if before them
the undertow of all our sufferings
is embedded in our souls . . . I don't know!

There are few; but are . . . opening dark furrows
in the fiercest of faces and the strongest of loins,
They are perhaps the colts of barbaric Attilas
or the dark heralds Death sends us.


They are the deep falls of the Christ of the soul,
of some adorable one that Destiny Blasphemes.
Those bloody blows are the crepitation
of some bread getting burned on us by the ...

Read the full of Black Messengers. (Translation Of Los Heraldos Negros)

Paris, October 1936

From all of this I am the only one who leaves.
From this bench I go away, from my pants,
from my great situation, from my actions,
from my number split side to side,
from all of this I am the only one who leaves.

From the Champs Elysées or as the strange
alley of the Moon makes a turn,
my death goes away, my cradle leaves,