Song of the Little Death (poem by Federico García Lorca)

Deadly moon meadow
and blood underground.
Old blood meadow.

Light of yesterday and tomorrow.
Deadly grass sky.
Light and night of sand.

I met Death.
Deadly dirt meadow.
A small death.

The dog on the roof.
Only my left hand
crossed endless mountains
of dried flowers.

Ash cathedral.
Light and night of sand.
A small death.

A death and I a man.
A man alone, and she
a small death

Deadly meadow of moons.
The snow moans and trembles
behind the door.

A man, so what? What was said.
A single man and her.
Meadow, love, light and sand.

A poem that evokes death not as a grand and tragic end, but as something intimate and interwoven with everyday life. Lorca transforms death into something familiar, lyrical and strangely sweet, and reminds us that it accompanies us throughout life in small, constant gestures.

Offertory (poem by Amado Nervo)

My God, I offer you my pain:
That’s all I can offer you!
You gave me one love, one love,
great love!

Death stole it from me
…and I have nothing left but my pain.
Accept it, Lord;
That’s all I can offer you!…

This poem, which is part of the book The motionless belovedshows the author’s pain after the premature death of his beloved. Once blessed with great love, he decides to transform pain into a sacred offering.

695 (Poem by Emily Dickinson)

As if the sea opened
and will show another Sea –
and that one – another one – and the Three
They were just a guess –

of Periods of Seas
not visited by any coast –
Themselves the Edge of other Seas to come –
Eternity – is all of Them.

In this poem, included in the death poems of Emily Dickinson, the author reflects on eternity imagining an infinite ocean formed by a sequence of seas that never ends.

Farewell (Poem by Federico García Lorca)

If I die,
leave the balcony open.

The boy eats oranges.
(I see it from my balcony).

The reaper reaps the wheat.
(I feel it from my balcony).

If I die,
leave the balcony open!

In this same sense, the great Lorca wrote these verses, to describe how life continues after our deathhow the world continues to spin and everyday life prevails over sadness.

Remember me (Poem by Christina Rossetti)

Remember me when I’m gone
Far away in the Silent Land;
When you can’t hold my hand anymore,
Not even me hesitating to leave, wanting to stay.
Remember me when everyday life is over,
Where you revealed our future thought:
Just remember me, you know it well,
When it is too late for prayers or consolations.
And even if you have to forget me for a moment
To then evoke me, do not regret it:
For darkness and sorrow leave
A remnant of the thoughts I had:
Forgetfulness is better in your smile
May the sadness drowned in your memory.

Cristina Rosseti also describes how she would like her loved ones to live when she leaves, because surely if we listened to those who are no longer here we would realize that they They want us to be happy, to smile when we remember them.because this is surely the best gift we can give them. We leave you remember meand when i die and my dear.

When I die, my dear (Poem by Cristina Rosseti)

When I die, my dear
don’t sing sad songs for me;
don’t plant roses in my head,
nor gloomy cypresses:
be the green grass above me
wet me with drizzle and dewdrops;
And if you wither, remember,
and if you wither, forget.

I won’t see the shadows,
I won’t feel the rain;
I will not listen to the nightingale
sing your pain:
and dreaming through the twilight
that neither grows nor falls,
I will happily remember,
and happy I will forget.

369 (Poem by Emily Dickinson)

She was lying down as if she were playing
His life slipped away in one leap —
with the intention of returning
but not so soon —
Joyful arms, almost collapsed —
as if when resting from the game —
for a moment they would forget —
Continue Mode —
Her dancing eyes — half open —
as if its Owner still did
signs of light through them
addressed to you — for fun —
His Dawn next to the door —
plotting, I’m sure —
how to force your sleep —
so light — so deep —

Emily Dickinson has a poem about death and how it creeps into bodies and, through an exquisite metaphor, tells us about the most corporal end of life.