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Best Famous Sera Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Sera poems. This is a select list of the best famous Sera poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Sera poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of sera poems.

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Written by Delmira Agustini | Create an image from this poem

Debout Sur Mon Orgueil Je Veux Montrer Au Soir

SpanishDebout sur mon orgueil je veux montrer au soirL'envers de mon manteau endeuillé de tes charmes,Son mouchoir infini, son mouchoir noir et noir,Trait à trait, doucement, boira toutes mes larmes.Il donne des lys blancs à mes roses de flammeEt des bandeaux de calme à mon front délirant…Que le soir sera bon.. Il aura pour moi l'âmeClaire et le corps profond d'un magnifique amant.              EnglishForsaking my pride, I want to show the nightThe inside of my cloak, plunged in mourning for your charms.Its infinite handkerchiefs, its handkerchiefs black and black,Piece by piece, tenderly, will drink all my tears.The night lays lilies upon my burning rosesAnd cool cloths upon my feverish brow…How good the evening will be! It will have, for me,The luminous soul, the profound body, of a magnificent lover.



Written by John Milton | Create an image from this poem

Sonnet 03

 III

Qual in colle aspro, al imbrunir di sera
L'avezza giovinetta pastorella
Va bagnando l'herbetta strana e bella
Che mal si spande a disusata spera
Fuor di sua natia alma primavera,
Cosi Amor meco insu la lingua snella
Desta il fior novo di strania favella,
Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera,
Canto, dal mio buon popol non inteso
E'l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arno 
Amor lo volse, ed io a l'altrui peso
Seppi ch' Amor cosa mai volse indarno.
Deh! foss' il mio cuor lento e'l duro seno
A chi pianta dal ciel si buon terreno.
Written by Ben Jonson | Create an image from this poem

Piccolo Valzer Viennese

 A Vienna ci sono dieci ragazze,
una spalla dove piange la morte
e un bosco di colombe disseccate.
C'e' un frammento del mattino
nel museo della brina.
C'è un salone con mille vetrate.

Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! 
Prendi questo valzer con la bocca chiusa.

Questo valzer, questo valzer, questo valzer,
di sì, di morte e di cognac
che si bagna la coda nel mare. 

Io ti amo, io ti amo, io ti amo
con la poltrona e con il libro morto, 
nel malinconico corridoio, 
nell'oscura soffitta del giglio,
nel nostro letto della luna, 
nella danza che sogna la tartaruga. 

Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi!
Prendi questo valzer dalla spezzata cintura.
A Vienna ci sono quattro specchi,
vi giocano la tua bocca e gli echi. 
C'è una morte per pianoforte
che tinge d'azzurro i giovanotti. 
Ci sono mendichi sui terrazzi. E
fresche ghirlande di pianto. 

Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! 
Prendi questo valzer che spira fra le mie braccia.
Perchè io ti amo, ti amo, amore mio,
nella soffitta dove giocano i bambini,
sognando vecchie luci d'Ungheria 
nel mormorio di una sera mite, 
vedendo agnelli e gigli di neve 
nell'oscuro silenzio delle tue tempie.

Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi!
Prendi questo valzer del "Ti amo per sempre".
A Vienna ballerò con te
con un costume che abbia la testa di fiume.
Guarda queste mie rive di giacinti!
Lascerò la mia bocca tra le tue gambe,
la mia anima in foto e fiordalisi, 
e nelle onde oscure del tuo passo io voglio,
amore mio, amore mio, lasciare,
violino e sepolcro, i nastri del valzer. 


English Translation

Little Viennese Waltz


In Vienna there are ten little girls 
a shoulder for death to cry on 
and a forest of dried pigeons. 
There is a fragment of tomorrow 
in the museum of winter frost. 
There is a thousand-windowed dance hall. 

Ay, ay, ay, ay! 
Take this close-mouthed waltz. 

Little waltz, little waltz, little waltz, 
of itself, of death, and of brandy 
that dips its tail in the sea. 

I love you, I love you, I love you, 
with the armchair and the book of death 
down the melancholy hallway, 
in the iris's dark garret, 
in our bed that was once the moon's bed, 
and in that dance the turtle dreamed of. 

Ay, ay, ay, ay! 
Take this broken-waisted waltz 
In Vienna there are four mirrors 
in which your mouth and the echoes play. 
There is a death for piano 
that paints the little boys blue. 
There are beggars on the roof. 
There are fresh garlands of tears. 

Aye, ay, ay, ay! 
Take this waltz that dies in my arms. 
Because I love you, I love you, my love, 
in the attic where children play, 
dreaming ancient lights of Hungary 
through the noise, the balmy afternoon, 
seeing sheep and irises of snow 
through the dark silence of your forehead. 

Ay, ay, ay ay! 
Take this "I will always love you" waltz. 
In Vienna I will dance with you 
in a costume with a river's head. 
See how the hyacinths line my banks! 
I will leave my mouth between your legs, 
my soul in photographs and lilies, 
and in the dark wake of your footsteps, 
my love, my love, I will have to leave 
violin and grave, the waltzing ribbons.
Written by Francesco Petrarch | Create an image from this poem

Sonnet CCXVII

SONNET CCXVII.

La sera desiar, odiar l' aurora.

CONTRARY TO THE WONT OF LOVERS, HE PREFERS MORN TO EVE.

Tranquil and happy loves in this agree,The evening to desire and morning hate:On me at eve redoubled sorrows wait—Morning is still the happier hour for me.[Pg 222]For then my sun and Nature's oft I seeOpening at once the orient's rosy gate,So match'd in beauty and in lustre great,Heaven seems enamour'd of our earth to be!As when in verdant leaf the dear boughs burstWhose roots have since so centred in my core,Another than myself is cherish'd more.Thus the two hours contrast, day's last and first:Reason it is who calms me to desire,And fear and hate who fiercer feed my fire.
Macgregor.

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry