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Best Famous Torre Poems

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

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Intima (Intimate)

Spanish Yo te diré los sueños de mi vidaEn lo más hondo de la noche azul…Mi alma desnuda temblará en tus manos,Sobre tus hombros pesará mi cruz.
Las cumbres de la vida son tan solas,Tan solas y tan frías! Y encerréMis ansias en mí misma, y toda enteraComo una torre de marfil me alcé.
Hoy abriré a tu alma el gran misterio;Tu alma es capaz de penetrar en mí.
En el silencio hay vértigos de abismo:Yo vacilaba, me sostengo en ti.
Muero de ensueños; beberé en tus fuentesPuras y frescas la verdad, yo séQue está en el fondo magno de tu pechoEl manantial que vencerá mi sed.
Y sé que en nuestras vidas se produjoEl milagro inefable del reflejo…En el silencio de la noche mi almaLlega a la tuya como a un gran espejo.
Imagina el amor que habré soñadoEn la tumba glacial de mi silencio!Más grande que la vida, más que el sueño,Bajo el azur sin fin se sintió preso.
Imagina mi amor, amor que quiereVida imposible, vida sobrehumana,Tú que sabes si pesan, si consumenAlma y sueños de Olimpo en carne humana.
Y cuando frente al alma que sentiaPoco el azur para bañar sus alas,Como un gran horizonte aurisoladoO una playa de luz se abrió tu alma:Imagina! Estrecha vivo, radianteEl Imposible! La ilusión vivida!Bendije a Dios, al sol, la flor, el aire,La vida toda porque tú eras vida!Si con angustia yo compré esta dicha,Bendito el llanto que manchó mis ojos!¡Todas las llagas del pasado ríenAl sol naciente por sus labios rojos!¡Ah! tú sabrás mi amor, mas vamos lejosA través de la noche florecida;Acá lo humano asusta, acá se oye,Se ve, se siente sin cesar la vida.
Vamos más lejos en la noche, vamosDonde ni un eco repercuta en mí,Como una flor nocturna allá en la sombraY abriré dulcemente para ti.
EnglishI will tell you the dreams of my lifeOn this deepest of blue nights.
In your hands my soul will tremble,On your shoulders my cross will rest.
The summits of life are lonely,So lonely and so cold! I lockedMy yearnings inside, and all resideIn the ivory tower I raised.
Today I will reveal a great mystery;Your soul has the power to penetrate me.
In silence are vertigos of the abyss:I hesitate, I am sustained in you.
I die of dreams; I will drink truth,Pure and cool, from your springs.
I know in the well of your breastIs a fountain that vanquishes my thirst.
And I know that in our lives, thisIs the inexpressible miracle of reflection…In the silence, my soul arrives at yoursAs to a magnificent mirror.
Imagine the love I dreamedIn the glacial tomb of silence!Larger than life, larger than dream,A love imprisoned beneath an azure without end.
Imagine my love, love which desiresImpossible life, superhuman life,You who know how it burdens and consumes,Dreams of Olympus bound by human flesh.
And when met with a soul which foundA bit of azure to bathe its wings,Like a great, golden sun, or a shoreMade of light, your soul opened:Imagine! To embrace the Impossible!Radiant! The lived illusion!Blessed be God, the sun, the flower, the air,And all of life, because you are life!If I bought this happiness with my anguish,Bless the weeping that stains my eyes!All the ulcers of the past laughAt the sun rising from red lips!Ah you will know, My Love,We will travel far across the flowery night;There what is human frightens, there you can hear it,See it, feel it, life without end.
We go further into night, we goWhere in me not an echo reverberates,Like a nocturnal flower in the shade,I will open sweetly for you.

Written by Victor Hugo |

GENIUS

 (DEDICATED TO CHATEAUBRIAND.) 
 
 {Bk. IV. vi., July, 1822.} 


 Woe unto him! the child of this sad earth, 
 Who, in a troubled world, unjust and blind, 
 Bears Genius—treasure of celestial birth, 
 Within his solitary soul enshrined. 
 Woe unto him! for Envy's pangs impure, 
 Like the undying vultures', will be driven 
 Into his noble heart, that must endure 
 Pangs for each triumph; and, still unforgiven, 
 Suffer Prometheus' doom, who ravished fire from Heaven. 
 
 Still though his destiny on earth may be 
 Grief and injustice; who would not endure 
 With joyful calm, each proffered agony; 
 Could he the prize of Genius thus ensure? 
 What mortal feeling kindled in his soul 
 That clear celestial flame, so pure and high, 
 O'er which nor time nor death can have control, 
 Would in inglorious pleasures basely fly 
 From sufferings whose reward is Immortality? 
 No! though the clamors of the envious crowd 
 Pursue the son of Genius, he will rise 
 
 From the dull clod, borne by an effort proud 
 Beyond the reach of vulgar enmities. 
 'Tis thus the eagle, with his pinions spread, 
 Reposing o'er the tempest, from that height 
 Sees the clouds reel and roll above our head, 
 While he, rejoicing in his tranquil flight, 
 More upward soars sublime in heaven's eternal light. 
 
 MRS. TORRE HULME