Rosalia de Castro (1837 – 1885) made a prolific contribution to the world of letters, thanks to her commendable work in the field of novels, poetry and short stories. She is Galician with a great devotion to her land, many of Rosalia de Castro’s poems were written in her native language , but she also wrote some of the most beautiful compositions of Spanish poetry in the language of Cervantes. 10 poems by Rosalia de Castro full of melancholy
We are going to approach the work of this magnificent poet, who bequeathed us some of the most beautiful and at the same time saddest verses of the genre, to try to analyze what their underlying meaning is. 1. A gentle river
A gentle river, a narrow path,
a lonely field and a pine forest,
and the old rustic and simple bridge
completing such pleasant solitude.
What is loneliness
Sometimes a single thought is enough to
fill the world .
That’s why today, fed up with beauty, you find
the bridge, the river and the pine forest deserted.
They are not cloud or flower that fall in love;
It is you, heart, sad or happy,
already of pain and of pleasure the referee,
who dries up the sea and makes the pole inhabit.
Loneliness is perfectly portrayed in this short poem by Rosalia de Castro, and it would be a recurring element in her work. At the beginning, she presents us with a wild landscape, with a path, a pine forest and a bridge as the main components of this scene. In the following verses,The author explains what loneliness means and tells us that, to combat it, just a memory is enough to fill the emptiness that the heart has. 2. Soledad
A gentle river, a narrow path,
a lonely field and a pine forest,
and the old rustic and simple bridge
completing such pleasant solitude.
What is loneliness
Sometimes a single thought is enough to
fill the world .
That’s why today, fed up with beauty, you find
the bridge, the river and the pine forest deserted.
They are not cloud or flower that fall in love;
it is you, heart, sad or happy,
already of pain and of pleasure the referee,
who dries up the sea and makes the pole habitable.
A concept that, translated into Spanish, would be similar to affliction (la saudade) is present in many of Rosalia’s poems, manifested in different ways depending on the meaning of each writing. In Soledad, the author describes this sensation using elements that we find in the green Galicia that no one passes by anymore. 3. Remember the song of the bird
Remember the song of the bird
and the snap of kisses,
the rumors of the jungle
when the wind moans in it,
and the storms of the sea,
and the harsh voice of thunder;
everything finds an echo in the strings
of the harp that the genius strikes.
But that dull heartbeat
that is sick
of death, and that of love dies
and that resonates in the chest
like a staff that breaks
inside a hollow tomb,
it is so sad and melancholy,
so terrible and so supreme,
that genius could never
repeat it with its echoes.
With nostalgia, Rosalia de Castro remembers the song of the birds, the sound of kisses, the howl of the wind and the rumble of thunder . However, the echo of a heavy heart can never be repeated twice in the same way or with such clarity. 4. Withered leaves
The roses on their trunks withered,
the white lilies on their upright
stems also withered,
and the angry wind snatched their leaves,
I snatch its scented leaves
that I will never see again.
Other roses later and other gardens
with white lilies on their upright stems
I have seen blooming;
but already tired of crying my eyes,
instead of crying in them, they spilled
drops of bitter gall.
In these verses, the image of some withering flowers contrasts with the author’s memory of when she had seen them sprout beautiful and splendid. It is a clear metaphor to describe the sorrow we feel for those people who left and will not return, of whom only the memory remains.
Rosalia de Castro, the great Galician writer. | Image from: Galicia Press. 5. The fountain no longer flows, the spring has run out
The fountain no longer flows, the spring is exhausted;
Already the traveler there is never going to quench his thirst.
The grass no longer sprouts, nor does the daffodil bloom, nor do
the lilies spread their fragrance in the air.
Only the sandy bed of the dry stream
reminds the thirsty of the horror of death.
But it doesn’t matter! In the distance another stream murmurs
Where humble violets perfume space.
And the branches of a willow tree, when looking at each other in the waves,
Tend their cool shadow around the water.
The thirsty traveler that the road crosses,
moistens his lips in the serene lymph of the
stream that the tree with its branches shades,
and happily forgets the already dry fountain.A dry spring, from which the water no longer flows and that has stopped bathing the field, where the flowers no longer germinate and that has lost all its greenness. With sadness we contemplate this scene, but with the hope that life will emerge again, since a new tributary bathes the earth and can once again quench the thirst of travelers, animals and flora, which grows again in the surroundings. Of the poems that make up his last work (On the banks of the Sar, 1884). 6. To the memory of the Galician poet Aurelio Aguirre
Sad tear poured into my pain,
pearl of the heart that was born amidst storms
in long hours of sorrow,
turned into a funereal memory ,
the flower will be linked to your crown;
the turbulent hours of life
the flowers wither and the laurel wither;
but tears, oh!, that the soul hides,
tears of mourning that pain fertilizes,
if the sad hollow of a tomb floods
and its humid breaths flood,
nor the sun of fire that in the East is born
dry its spring to leave does not arrive
nor in subtle vapors it undoes him,
and my tears are a fertile spring
to pour over a tomb loved
by a thousand memories, mighty river!
An ode dedicated to the compatriot and professional colleague Aurelio Aguirre, who died in 1858 at the age of 25 under tragic circumstances. Rosalia de Castro opens her heart and shows us what the loss of this young promise of the lyric meant to her:no matter that a scorching sun dries up the rivers and tributaries, she will shed enough tears in his honor to fill them up again. 7. The bells
I love them, I hear them, as I
hear the murmur of the wind,
the murmur of the fountain
or the bleating of a lamb.
Like the birds, they,
as soon as
the first ray of dawn appears in the skies,
greet him with their echoes.
And in his notes, which extend
over the plains and hills,
there is something candid,
peaceful and flattering.
If they were forever silent,
what sadness in the air and the sky!
What silence in the church!
What strangeness among the dead!
Not all of his poems deal with issues such as melancholy and the inexorability of time, some are dedicated to his beloved Galicia and life in the villages of the late nineteenth century. The bells is a detailed representation of how the sound of this instrument is still heard in the lost towns and villages of deep Galicia . 8. Soul that you are fleeing from yourself
Soul that you are fleeing from yourself,
what are you looking for, foolish, in others?
If I dry in you the source of consolation,
you dry all the sources you have to find.
That there are still stars in the sky,
and there are perfumed flowers on earth!
Yes!… But they are no longer those
you loved and who loved you, unhappy one.
Rosalia de Castro maintains a dialogue with herself here, although more specifically, with her soul. Because of her personal circumstances, the poet is so despondent that she reproaches herself for continuing to desperately seek a consolation that she seems doomed to never find again. 9. In an album
I saw you once as a child;
You seemed to me like a spring flower
or a rosebud that exhaled
its virginal essence.
Now they all say
that you are a beautiful woman…
May God that you
sleep in the bed of the virgins for a long time in a long dream!
What is the sweetest dream
that the beautiful ones sleep on Earth!De Castro speaks here of the purity and innocence that characterize childhood , and expresses his desire that these qualities last and not be lost over the years. 10. Hour after hour, day after day
Hour after hour, day after day,
Between heaven and earth that remain
Eternal watchers,
Like a torrent that wakes up
Life passes.
Give back to the flower its perfume
From it After withering;
Of the waves that kiss the beach
And that one after another kissing it expire Collect
the rumors, the complaints,
And engrave their harmony on bronze plates.
Times that were, tears and laughter,
Black torments, sweet lies,
Oh! Where did they leave their trail?
Where, my soul
On the banks of the Sar (1884) is one of her saddest works, a reflection of the suffering that the author felt in her last months of life. Again, we perceive the use of saudade to express sorrow for past times where there was happiness and frivolity , something that has clearly left a trace of melancholy in the poet.
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