A collection of Jose Marti Poems, essays, letters, lectures, a novel, and a children’s magazine are among his written creations.
Jose Marti Poems
Jose Marti was born in Havana on January 28, 1853, to a Canary Islander woman and a retired Spanish military sergeant who had become a watchman.
After his passing, one of Jose Marti Poems from the collection Versos Sencillos (Simple Verses) was turned into the song Guantanamera, which is now regarded as the nation of Cuba’s undisputed national anthem.
All of Jose Marti Poems, which had an impact on Chilean poet Gabriela Mistral and Nicaraguan poet Rubén Daro, prominently feature the ideas of freedom, liberty, and democracy.
1. I Who Live Though I Have Died (verse Xxvi)
I who live though I have died,
Claim a great discovery,
For last night I verified
Love is the best remedy.
When weighed by the cross, a man
Resolves to die for the right;
He does all the good he can,
And returns bathed in the light.
2. Pour Out Your Sorrows, My Heart (verse Xlvi)
Pour out your sorrows, my heart,
But let none discover where;
For my pride makes me forbear
My heart’s sorrows to impart.
I love you, Verse, my friend true,
Because when in pieces torn
My heart’s too burdened, you’ve borne
All my sorrows upon you.
For me you suffer and bear
Upon your amorous lap
Every anguish, every slap
That my painful love leaves there.
That I may love, in peace with all,
And do good works, as my goal,
You thrash your waves, rise and fall,
With whatever weighs my soul.
That I may cross with fierce stride,
Pure and without hate, this vale,
You drag yourself, hard and pale,
The loving friend at my side.
And so my life its way will wend
To the sky serene and pure,
While you my sorrows endure
And with divine patience tend.
Because I know this cruel habit
Of throwing myself on you
Upsets your harmony true
And tries your gentle spirit;
Because on your breast I’ve shed
All of my sorrows and torments,
And have whipped your quiet currents,
Which are here white and there red,
And then pale as death become,
At once roaring and attacking,
And then beneath the weight cracking
Of pain it can’t overcome: –
Should I the advice have taken
Of a heart so misbegotten,
Would have me leave you forgotten
Who never me has forsaken?
Verse, there’s a God, they aver
To whom the dying appealed;
Verse, as one our fates our sealed:
We are damned or saved together!
- Poems about Sleep
- Poems About Missing Someone
- Sandra Cisneros Poems
- Christmas Love Poems
- Birthday Poems for Mom
3. Opening The Moorish Grate (verse Xvi)
Opening the moorish grate
To lean upon the wet sill,
Pale as the moon, and so still,
A lover ponders his fate.
Pale, beneath her canopy
Of red silk and turtle dove,
Eve, who says nothing of love,
A violet plucks in her tea.
4. I’ll Never Forget, I Vow (verse Xiv)
I’ll never forget, I vow,
That fall morning long ago,
When I saw a new leaf grow
Upon the old withered bow.
That dear morning when for naught,
By a stove whose flame had died,
A girl in love stood beside
An old man, and his hand sought.
- Lang Leav Poems
- Easter Poems for Church
- Poems about Losing Grandparents
- Christina Rossetti Poems
- E.E Cummings Love Poems
5. Wandering Through Love’s Strange Bazaar (verse Xlii)
Wandering through love’s strange bazaar,
Held by the seaside, not far,
A sad pearl fair as a star
By great luck fell to Agar.
Too long to her breast she pressed it
And too long her eyes caressed it,
That soon she came to detest it
And dropped it as the sea crested.
The venomous Agar crying,
Into a great rage then flying,
From the sea the pearl tried prying,
With the stormy sea replying:
‘Why, fool, did you so soon discard
The fairest pearl in all the world?
Back to my depths the pearl you hurled,
Now the sad pearl you spurned, I guard.’
6. I Have A Dead Friend (verse Viii)
I have a dead friend who lately
Has begun to visit me:
My friend sits down and sings to me,
Sings to me so dolefully.
‘Upon the double-winged bird’s back
I am rowing through skies of blue:
One of the bird’s wings is black,
The other, gold of Cariboo.’
‘The heart’s a madman that abhors
One color as one too few:
Either its love is two colors,
Or else it is not love’s hue.’
‘There’s a madwoman more savage
Than is the unhappy heart:
She that sucks the blood in rage,
And then a-laughing would start.’
‘A heart that has lost forever
The steadfast anchor of home,
Sails like a ship in fould weather,
And knows not to go or come.’
If his anguish should betray him,
The dead man will curse and weep:
I pat his skull and I lay him,
Lay the dead man down to sleep.
- T.S. Eliot Poems
- Rumi Love Poems
- I Wandered as a Cloud
- The Quality of Mercy is Not Strained
- Richard Siken Poems
7. A Sincere Man Am I (verse I)
A sincere man am I
From the land where palm trees grow,
And I want before I die
My soul’s verses to bestow.
I’m a traveller to all parts,
And a newcomer to none:
I am art among the arts,
With the mountains I am one.
I know how to name and class
All the strange flowers that grow;
I know every blade of grass,
Fatal lie and sublime woe.
I have seen through dead of night
Upon my head softly fall,
Rays formed of the purest light
From beauty celestial.
I have seen wings that were surging
From beautiful women’s shoulders,
And seen butterflies emerging
From the refuse heap that moulders.
I have known a man to live
With a dagger at his side,
And never once the name give
Of she by whose hand he died.
Twice, for an instant, did I
My soul’s reflection espy:
Twice: when my poor father died
And when she bade me good-bye.
I trembled once, when I flung
The vineyard gate, and to my dread,
The wicked hornet had stung
My little girl on the forehead.
I rejoiced once and felt lucky
The day that my jailer came
To read the death warrant to me
That bore his tears and my name.
I hear a sigh across the earth,
I hear a sigh over the deep:
It is no sign reaching my hearth,
But my son waking from sleep.
If they say I have obtained
The pick of the jeweller’s trove,
A good friend is what I’ve gained
And I have put aside love.
I have seen across the skies
A wounded eagle still flying;
I know the cubby where lies
The snake of its venom dying.
I know that the world is weak
And must soon fall to the ground,
Then the gentle brook will speak
Above the quiet profound.
While trembling with joy and dread,
I have touched with hand so bold
A once-bright star that fell dead
From heaven at my threshold.
On my brave heart is engraved
The sorrow hidden from all eyes:
The son of a land enslaved,
Lives for it, suffers and dies.
All is beautiful and right,
All is as music and reason;
And all, like diamonds, is light
That was coal before its season.
I know when fools are laid to rest
Honor and tears will abound,
And that of all fruits, the best
Is left to rot in holy ground.
Without a word, the pompous muse
I’ve set aside, and understood:
From a withered branch, I choose
To hang my doctoral hood.
In Spanish literature, Marti is revered as the founder of modernism. Marti addressed him as “Master” while Ruben Dario addressed him as “son.” His writing still serves as a model for Spanish prose. From 1936 through 1953, his collected writings were published in 73 volumes.
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Daily Time Poems.