Gabriela Mistral Poems
|3.||Song Of Death||4/3/2012|
|6.||The Shining Host||4/12/2010|
|8.||Death Sonnet I||4/12/2010|
|9.||Decalogue Of The Artist||4/12/2010|
|10.||Those Who Do Not Dance||4/12/2010|
|11.||The Stranger (La Extranjera)||4/12/2010|
|15.||I Am Not Alone||4/12/2010|
|16.||The Sad Mother||1/13/2003|
|17.||To See Him Again||1/13/2003|
Comments about Gabriela Mistral
Let us go now into the forest.
Trees will pass by your face,
and I will stop and offer you to them,
but they cannot bend down.
The night watches over its creatures,
except for the pine trees that never change:
the old wounded springs that spring
blessed gum, eternal afternoons.
If they could, the trees would lift you
and carry you from valley to valley,
and you would pass from arm to arm,
a child running
from father to father.
I believe in my heart that when
The wounded heart sunk within the depth of God sings
It rises from the pond alive
As if new-born.
I believe in my heart that what I wring from myself
To tinge life’s canvas
With red of pallid hue, thus cloaking it
In luminous garb.