Mother, take me to bed – Miguel de Unamuno

Mother, take me to bed,
Mother, take me to bed,
that I can’t stand.
Come son, God bless you
and don’t let yourself fall.

Don’t leave my side,
Sing me that song.
My mother sang it to me;
I forgot when I was little,
when I pressed you to my breasts
with you I remembered it.

What does the song say, my mother,
What does that song say?
He does not say, my son, he prays,
pray words of honey;
pray dream words
that they say nothing without him.
Are you here, my mother?
because I can’t see you…
I am here, with your dream;
sleep, my son, with faith.

In this poem by Miguel de Unamuno, the mother is presented as a protective and loving figure, who takes her son to bed and sings him a lullaby that his own mother sang to him, which highlights the transmission of love and care through generations.

If Nature Smiles – Emily Dickinson

If Nature smiles – Mother must
In the face of numerous whims
From His Eccentric Family –
Should she be blamed for that?

In this short, concise poem, Dickinson personifies Nature as a mothercreator of life and witness to the «whims» of her family. Like a mother, Nature smiles and accepts the eccentricities of her «children» and the author questions whether we can blame her for the life she has created.

To my mother – Edgar Allan Poe

Because I feel that up there, in the heavens,
the angels speak sweetly in each other’s ears,
cannot find among his radiant words of love
none as devout as that of “mother.”

I have long called you by that dear name
to you who are more than a mother to me
because you fill the sanctuary of my heart
in which death has installed you,
by freeing the soul of my beloved Virginia.

My mother, my own mother,
who died early, it was just my mother;
But you were the mother of the one I loved so much,
and that’s why you are dearer than the mother I knew,

and so you are dearer than the mother I knew
for that eternity with which my wife
My soul idolized her more than her own soul.

Despite being titled «To My Mother,» this poem is not about Poe’s biological mother, Elizabeth Arnold Poe, who died when he was very young. It is, in fact, a tribute to his mother-in-lawMaria Clemm, whom he considered a mother figure who helped him a lot, and especially during the illness and death of his wife, Virginia.

To my mother – Rubén Darío

I dreamed that I found myself one day
in the depths of the sea:
on the coral that was there
and the pearls shone
a unique tomb.

I approached cautiously
to that place of pain
and I read: «He lies at rest
that unhappy love
but immense, holy love.

The hand in the shadowy grave
I had and lost my reason.
When I woke up I had
the trembling and cold hand
placed on the heart.

The Nicaraguan poet Rubén Darío, a prominent figure of Modernism, pays tribute to the enduring bond between a mother and her child through the use of vivid images, rhythmic language and great emotional intensity, characteristics of the modernist style.

Filial love – Amado Nervo

I adore my dear mother,
I adore my father too;
no one wants me in life
how they know how to love me.

If I sleep; They watch my dream;
If I cry, they are both sad;
If I laugh, his face is smiling:
my laughter is the sun for them.

They both teach me with immense
tenderness to be human and happy.
my father stops my fight and thinks,
My mother always prays for me.

I adore my dear mother.
I adore my father too;
no one wants me in life
how they know how to love me.

The Mexican poet and writer, representative of the modernist movement, expresses in this sincere poem a deep love, gratitude and reverence for his parents. A tribute to the selfless and unconditional love of parents, even when they age and their strength diminishes.

To my mother, by Rafael Núñez

I want to consecrate a memory to you
-And who better than you?-
In this book where the story is
of my pleasures, oh! and from my tears,
of everything I leave behind me!

In that sea so full of emotions
what they call youth,
among its fogs, rocks and turbidities,
I managed to discover your prophetic face
showing me duty and virtue.

Which in the name of God an anointed dove
Noah pointed out
the green bouquet, symbol of life,
so also from my horrid darkness
the term your image announced to me.

The black chaos of faith is shipwrecked,
that plunges the being into the night,
He evaporated before me like a vague shadow,
and since then he understood my spirit
that loving is nothing other than believing.

Later,… when the breath of destiny
from your home he threw me,
when I had to walk another path
where you were not, my benevolent angel,
my plant again faltered.

And the sepulchral wind of passions,
similar to simon,
remade the dissolved storm clouds;
and the meridian light was twilight,
and that is how it has remained and is still preserved.

Far from you my soul stirs
like a ship without a rudder,
like the flower held, although withered,
of the oscillating and combative stem
that sprouted next to the broken rock sea.

It is necessary to meet: the existence
without love where is it?…
but, as love is belief,
I seek the scope of your peaceful asylum,
because without you my chest will not believe.

I want to go back to my old days
of calm. And either I know
that it is difficult to find the joys
that on the wings of time they fled quickly;
but at your side, yes, I will find them!

I want, sitting next to you, to the reflection
of the light of the home,
tell you how much I suffer when I leave,
through the noise of the world, the placid rumor
of that abode, of my blessed altar.

I want to open my desolate chest to you:
in it you will find
a broken and torn heart,
of doubts floating alas! in the sea,
but that you will take to the shore.

I want to open my chest to you as if it were
a book, and that when reading
how much my life expects from you,
understand oh! What do I leave on these pages?
even more than a song: my entire being!

Rafael Núñez, 19th century Colombian poet and politician, describes in this poem his love and admiration for his mothermaking a deep reflection on life and the longing for consolation. The maternal figure is seen as a beacon of hope, love and wisdom, who guides the child in the midst of emotional storms.

Implacable Law – Julio Flórez

Oh! How do you want your mother to find
in this world benefactor calm,
If you tear, at birth, the belly,
and you tear his soul apart when he dies?

And that unhappy mother, how stubbornly
wants to give you, in the world, serene hours,
if in the fetal milk with which it raises you,
you drink… all the juice of their sorrows!

How do you want, mortal, that in existence
May your wife keep your attributes faithful…
If you yourself, by stealing his innocence,
Do you teach him the delight of the brutes?

Man, you are fodder for a violent resentment:
invisible hands push you towards evil;
You live, and suffering devours you;
You die, and the worms devour you.

The Colombian poet Julio Flórez, influenced by late romanticism and modernism, is known for his pessimistic tone, his melancholy and his fatalistic vision of life and love. The first verses tell us about the mother’s suffering, both in childbirth and in the death of her son, and suggest that motherhood is marked by pain.

Alas, when children die – Rosalía de Castro

Yo
Alas, when children die,
early April roses,
of the mother the tender cry
watches his eternal sleep.

Nor do they go to the grave alone,
Oh, that eternal suffering
from the mother, follow the son
to the endless regions.

But when a mother dies,
only love there is here;
Oh, when a mother dies,
a son should die.

II
I had a sweet mother,
Heaven granted it to me,
more tender than tenderness,
more angel than my good angel.

In his loving lap,
I dreamed… chimerical dream!
leave this unpleasant life
to the soft ones are his prayers.

But my sweet mother,
He felt his heart sick,
that of tenderness and pain,
Oh, it melted in his chest.

Soon the sad bells
they gave the wind their echoes;
my mother died;
I felt my breast tear.

The Virgin of Mercedes,
He was next to my bed…
I have another mother on top…
That’s why I haven’t died!

This poem by Rosalía de Castro, one of the most important figures in Spanish and Galician literature, reflects maternal love and deep pain caused by the loss of a child.

Like the tender mother – Garcilaso de la Vega

Like the tender mother that the mourner
son is with tears asking
something, of which eating,
He knows that the evil he feels must be doubled,

and that pious love does not allow him
Let him consider the damage he’s doing
what he asks he does, he runs,
and double the evil and appease the accident,

So to my sick and crazy thought,
that in his harm he asks of me, I would like
remove this deadly maintenance.

But ask me, and cry every day
so much so that whatever he wants I consent to him,
forgetting his death and even mine.

This sonnet by Garcilaso de la Vega, one of the most important poets of the Spanish Golden Age, uses the metaphor of a mother giving in to her son’s harmful requests to illustrate the poet’s inability to resist his own self-destructive impulses.

Solitudes (III) – Eusebio Blasco

I was a child, and one day
I saw that my mother was wearing
black crepe suit;
and when I looked at it, I felt
sadness in my heart.
Oh! Since then I saw her
always in black; and to me
They took off my blue blouse
and another black woman they bought me
and I dressed in black.
On a secluded path,
my mother, sad and silent
and of the cowardly people,
she always came out in mourning!
when the afternoon died.
I rose up fearful one day
the eyes to look
to my sad mother,
and seeing me smile,
The poor thing burst into tears.
And then I remembered
his fresh and beautiful face,
and changed I found it.
and his once showy suit
I compared with the black one.
Black your suit and mine
black the mountain, black the river
that the night was already hiding…
everything around, gloomy
He invited us to cry.
It reflected the same color
the neglected inheritance
in terrifying silence;
reigned around us
a black loneliness!
Mothers and children came
to see each other; everyone looked
colors that I envied.
Mothers and children laughed…
Oh! but not us!
Time passed; I flew;
the bird leaves the nest
when you see with wings,
and to the world and joyful noise
of life I launched myself.
Time and crazy age
and other cheerful colors
and love and friendship,
and the pleasure and the dreams
of glory and vanity,
they made me smile;
that the pain that a child feels
It is a minute in life.
But alas! my grieving mother
She is still dressed in mourning.

Spanish poet Eusebio Blasco often explored themes such as nostalgia, loneliness, and personal reflection in his work. In this poem belonging to the collection Solitudes remember one experience from his childhood in which he observed his mother dressed in mourningsomething that causes him great sadness and marked a turning point in his life.

Mothers of the Poets, by Romeo Murga

Mothers of the poets who have been in the past,
I come to talk to you about your sad children.
Suffering flesh, in your bowels they have slept
and you did not know them.

Mothers of the poets who are currently,
with your eternity of tenderness and lullaby
You will calm the seas and the devastating wind,
but not to his pain.

Mothers of the poets who will be tomorrow,
On the cold earth their steps will be lost;
They will seek new paths and never sleep
on your laps.

Mothers of the poets who are, will be, and have been,
throat of those songs, groove of those seeds,
tree that doesn’t…