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30 review for The Complete Poetry

  1. 4 out of 5

    Dolors

    My initial quest was to bring a literary souvenir from Perú and it seems I found out what would become a dear poet to me, a poet who will now remain close to my heart for times to come. Chance and fate have been playing unpredicted roles in my life lately. Peruvian expatriate César Vallejo was born in Santiago de Chuco, a small village in the northern Andes mountains in 1892. His life was forged in despair and alienation while he studied literature, law and medicine in Lima, where he was struck w My initial quest was to bring a literary souvenir from Perú and it seems I found out what would become a dear poet to me, a poet who will now remain close to my heart for times to come. Chance and fate have been playing unpredicted roles in my life lately. Peruvian expatriate César Vallejo was born in Santiago de Chuco, a small village in the northern Andes mountains in 1892. His life was forged in despair and alienation while he studied literature, law and medicine in Lima, where he was struck with the harshness of city life when comparing it with the uneventful rural life of his childhood. Introduced to the ideas of Darwin, Marx and Rationalist philosophers, Vallejo felt that the Catholic faith in which he had been raised was no longer feasible and he became actively interested in his pre-Columbian heritage while becoming increasingly anguished to learn of the suffering of aboriginals in his country, particularly during the Spanish Colonization. And in that sense, Vallejo arose, not only as a poet, but also as a man who embodied his political views and his social engagement through his verses, mourning for what was lost and bewildered by the senselessness of the brutality of life. But protest poems were not his only achievements. Vallejo’s poetry managed to highlight the melodic quality of language, using erotic lyrics for descriptions of human landscape, breaking conventions in inventing new words when existent ones failed to convey the passion of a lover, the irrecoverable feeling of innocence so characteristic of childhood or the proud respect towards a forthcoming and certain death. Located between post-modernism and avant-gardism, Vallejo develops his writing style, ignoring the modernist constrains since his work neglects the measured verse and its rhyme and obviates grammar rules and the semantic use of words while finding new ways of aesthetic expression. His uncanonically use of free verse achieves a superior form of portraying his humanity and his most intimate thread of thinking. This is most evident in his first collection of poems called “Los Heraldos Negros” (The Black Messengers) , where estrangement and a constant feeling of social injustice become recurrent subjects along with a sensuous yearning that usually takes form of a woman’s body. “Mi carne nada, nada en la copa de sombra que me hace aún doler; mi carne nada en ella como en un pantanoso corazón de mujer.” (*) (“My flesh nothing, nothing in the glass made of shade that makes me hurt still; my flesh swims in her like in a swampy heart of woman.”) (*) Note the play on words used in Spanish as the verb ”nada” (swim) is spelled in the same way than the noun ” nada” (nothing) , creating a double meaning in the verse. Is he swimming, lost in reverie in a passionate embrace or feeling debased and alienated in doing so? His next collection of poems,”Trilce”, is much more of a challenge for the reader as it appears completely devoid of ornamental language; leaving articles, conjunctions and even particles of words dangling at the end of a line. His verses usually manage to break the rhythm by employing awkward alliterations and they explore multiple meanings in playing with spelling while creating new words when he thinks it convenient. “ Pasa una paralela a ingrata línea quebrada de felicidad me extraña cada firmeza, junto a esa agua que se aleja, que ríe acero, caña. Hilo retemplado, hilo, hilo binómico ¿por dónde romperás, nudo de guerra? Acoraza este ecuador, Luna.” (“Draw a parallel to ungrateful cracked line of happiness. I wonder at each firmness, along with that water it moves away, laughing steel, cane. Retempering thread, thread, binomial thread where will you be breaking in, knot of war? Protect this Ecuador, Moon.”) In attributing qualities not normally associated with words, like a laughing river flow, which could represent the mockery of the inexorable passage of time, filtering through life and shattering all chances of happiness, Vallejo tampers with clichés to give them new meaning, creating more aggressive than beautiful poems where a raw and complex language serves the purpose of illustrating the human struggle against all kind of physical and spiritual limitations. Although I was impressed by Vallejo’s juggling use of words and syntax in ”Trilce”, his voice spoke most distinctly to me, hitting close to home, in his last volume, “Poemas Humanos” (Human Poems) . Vallejo wrote this collection during his exile in Europe, mainly in Paris, as an expatriate political activist while openly fighting Franco’s fascist forces and writing in defense of the Republic during the Spanish Civil War. This volume was published posthumously by his wife. Vallejo’s most passionate and tragic voice can be heard in the fatally wounded verses of his more mature years, where a haunting quest for the true meaning of life becomes futile in the poet’s eyes when faced with the impossibility of humanity to grasp it. His poems ooze with the frustration inherent in the human condition and with his heart-breaking perplexity of finally succumbing to a ruthless and chaotic world. Having abandoned all religious faith, Vallejo searched for answers in his surrealist writing, relentlessly questioning himself, squeezing words to their limit while mourning for the loss of moral innocence. He sensed his end was near. All these sentiments reach their peak in one of his most famous poems ”Piedra Negra sobre Piedra Blanca” (“Black Stone on White Stone”) : ”Me moriré en París con aguacero, un día del cual tengo ya el recuerdo. Me moriré en París ? y no me corro? tal vez un jueves, como es hoy, de otoño. Jueves será, porque hoy, jueves, que proso estos versos, los húmeros me he puesto a la mala y, jamás como hoy, me he vuelto, con todo mi camino, a verme solo. César Vallejo ha muerto, le pegaban todos sin que él les haga nada; le daban duro con un palo y duro también con una soga; son testigos los días jueves y los huesos húmeros, la soledad, la lluvia, los caminos...” ( “I will die in Paris with a rainstorm, on a day I already remember, I will die in Paris—and I don't shy away— perhaps on a Thursday, as today is, in autumn. It will be Thursday, because today, Thursday, as I prose these lines, I've put on my humeri in a bad mood, and, today like never before, I've turned back, with all of my road, to see myself alone. César Vallejo has died; they kept hitting him, everyone, even though he does nothing to them, they gave it to him hard with a club and hard also with a rope; witnesses are the Thursday days and the humerus bones, the solitude, the rain, the roads. . .” ) I have discovered in Cesar Vallejo a new poetic reference; his verses emerge as twin souls to Picasso or Salvador Dalí’s disruptive paintings in setting up both an innovative and wrenching poetic language for Spanish that radically altered the shape of its imagery and the nature of its rhythms. As Vallejo himself says in his poetry, he was born into a life full of pain, despair and anguish, but he managed to alleviate its burden with his visceral passion for the written word, opening the way for future poets by leaving a brighter, cleaner and much more polished, maybe even angular, language to them. Ready to be used and re-used, but never to be either wasted or forgotten.

  2. 5 out of 5

    Liam Howley

    On mother's day, on the 30th March this year, a present arrived for me, from Ursula, my wife and mother of my child, that put my measly pretence of a gift in the shade. The Complete Poetry of César Vallejo, a Peruvian poet from the early 20th century, was the last thing I would have expected, for I was not only woefully ignorant of him, but could not recall having ever heard of him before. Being no expert in poetry, and in fact, being in the case of poetry quite a light reader, I would in most c On mother's day, on the 30th March this year, a present arrived for me, from Ursula, my wife and mother of my child, that put my measly pretence of a gift in the shade. The Complete Poetry of César Vallejo, a Peruvian poet from the early 20th century, was the last thing I would have expected, for I was not only woefully ignorant of him, but could not recall having ever heard of him before. Being no expert in poetry, and in fact, being in the case of poetry quite a light reader, I would in most cases have just brushed this lack of knowledge off, settled down and, with a glass or two of whiskey, become acquainted. However, I soon discovered that this was no ordinary omission. "There are blows in life, so powerful... I don't know! Blows as from the hatred of God; as if, facing them the undertow of everything suffered welled up in the soul... I don't know!" From The Black Heralds, this opening stanza begins a collection of poetry that I cannot begin to describe, and yet that I have an overwhelming desire to share. I love words. I love the malleable mála of these arbitrary arrangements that can envelope you, mold you, wrap you in their labyrinthine passage or cut you open, tear your heart with slivers. The words I love reside at intersections, as frontiers in a changing landscape, insecure and fragile... How it is that a poem comes, I don't know. I've written a few. Some I've parted with as gifts. Others I've stretched and bent and kneaded into shape so to fit my prose, or just simply discarded. How it is that Telluric and Magnetic came to be written, to ... "... integrate with wind the lowings, the waters with their deaf antiquity" ... "Rain based on noon, under the tile roof where indefatigable altitude gnaws and the turtle dove cuts her trill in three!" ... “Just to have seen their corrosive dust! Just to have heard their oxides of the heights! Mouth wedges, mouth anvils, mouth apparatus (It is tremendous!)” César Vallejo was of his time. And his time was one of force and violence, of emergence, of making and remaking. Revolutions, ruptures, the rent faces of humanity split on altars. "Málaga without father or mother, nor pebble, nor oven, nor white dog! Málaga defenseless, where my death was born taking steps and my birth died of passion! Málaga walking behind your feet, in exodus, under evil, under cowardice, under the concave, inexpressible history, with the yolk in your hand: organic earth! And the white in your hair tips: the whole chaos!" I could continue quoting pieces from his poems, but I won't. I do not know them well enough, and they don't deserve to be nibbled but devoured. But here is a link to pen.org where Sam Shepard reads from three of his poems. Have a listen. This will grab your attention.

  3. 5 out of 5

    Kiran Bhat

    Poesía llena de muchas palabras vivas. Creo que Vallejo es uno de los escritores mejores de la literatura española, pero me da pena que él no sea más reconocida afuera de algunas comunidades latinas.

  4. 4 out of 5

    J.M. Hushour

    I'm a firm believer in the pointlessness, nay, crime! of trying to review, analyze, or critique poetry. Let me just say that you can never go wrong with the Peruvian poetic powerhouse, Cesar "Humanity's Sublimity" Vallejo. I'm a firm believer in the pointlessness, nay, crime! of trying to review, analyze, or critique poetry. Let me just say that you can never go wrong with the Peruvian poetic powerhouse, Cesar "Humanity's Sublimity" Vallejo.

  5. 4 out of 5

    g

    Alta poesía andina que sigue viva, habla, calla, se transforma. Sobresale una lucha en Vallejo. Entre el Alto Perú español en las raíces y el Perú independiente, sanmartiniano, en los frutos de su lenguaje. Como es poesía en tensión entre el barroco y la voz propia, su lectura es por momentos áspera, cascaruda. Quizás intencionalmente espinosa. Una clave quizás esté en que el núcleo de compasión humana resulta totalmente visible. Hay una gran lucidez emocional -quizás la única forma de sabiduría Alta poesía andina que sigue viva, habla, calla, se transforma. Sobresale una lucha en Vallejo. Entre el Alto Perú español en las raíces y el Perú independiente, sanmartiniano, en los frutos de su lenguaje. Como es poesía en tensión entre el barroco y la voz propia, su lectura es por momentos áspera, cascaruda. Quizás intencionalmente espinosa. Una clave quizás esté en que el núcleo de compasión humana resulta totalmente visible. Hay una gran lucidez emocional -quizás la única forma de sabiduría- que se filtra por las grietas de la muralla. En Trilce, por ejemplo. Casi sin muralla en los Poemas Humanos. Y colapsa en deslumbramiento en los Poemas en Prosa. Parece oscilar entre lo amargo y lo beatífico. Pasa caminando de la melancolía a la iluminación. Es París, pero nunca dejó de ser Lima. Dan ganas de otro pisco, más que de absenta. Y de un ceviche bien cargado, si el supremo andino de aquel París surrealista lo concede.

  6. 4 out of 5

    yórgos

    τον vallejo δεν τον λες εύκολο. αλλα και ποιόν άνθρωπο λες εύκολο;

  7. 5 out of 5

    Nikolas Koutsodontis

    "Ας πηγαίνουμε! ας πηγαίνουμε ! Είμαι πληγωμένος" (439) Πόνος και πείνα, φτώχεια, απώλεια και αδικία είναι ουσιώδη στοιχεία στη μεγάλη και δύσκολη νοηματικά ποίηση του περουβιανου κομμουνιστή ποιητή Σαιζαρ Βαλιεχο. Ο άνθρωπος ως αντιφατικό ζώο, τα αδιέξοδα, η συνεχής παρουσία του θανάτου, ενός θανάτου υλικού, κι ένας θεός όπως βιώθηκε στα παιδικά χρόνια μέσω της οικογένειας και βιώνεται υποσυνείδητα από τον υλιστή και άθεο ποιητή, που γράφει ωστόσο αληθινά μεταφυσικά ποιήματα. Κυρίως, βέβαια υπάρ "Ας πηγαίνουμε! ας πηγαίνουμε ! Είμαι πληγωμένος" (439) Πόνος και πείνα, φτώχεια, απώλεια και αδικία είναι ουσιώδη στοιχεία στη μεγάλη και δύσκολη νοηματικά ποίηση του περουβιανου κομμουνιστή ποιητή Σαιζαρ Βαλιεχο. Ο άνθρωπος ως αντιφατικό ζώο, τα αδιέξοδα, η συνεχής παρουσία του θανάτου, ενός θανάτου υλικού, κι ένας θεός όπως βιώθηκε στα παιδικά χρόνια μέσω της οικογένειας και βιώνεται υποσυνείδητα από τον υλιστή και άθεο ποιητή, που γράφει ωστόσο αληθινά μεταφυσικά ποιήματα. Κυρίως, βέβαια υπάρχει η επίμονη και συγκινητική μάνα. Τα ποιήματα της συλλογής ΤΡΙΛΘΕ είναι εντελώς ακατάληπτα αν δεν τα διαβάσεις παράλληλα με τον αναλυτικό σχολιασμό των πίσω σελίδων και τη βιογραφία του ποιητή με πληροφορίες για την άδικη φυλάκιση του το 1920, για τη πεθαμένη μάνα του που στοίχισε στον ποιητή τα πάντα και για τον χωρισμό του με την Οτιλια που έμεινε έγκυος. Είναι οι ποιητικές στιγμές του Βαλιεχο που εκτοξεύουν την ποίηση του, οι δυνατές συγκρουσιακές του εικόνες , η βαθιά ανθρωπιά του Δείτε: ΜΑΥΡΟΙ ΜΑΝΤΑΤΟΦΟΡΟΙ (1919) "Είναι χτυπήματα στη ζωή, τόσο σκληρά... Δεν ξέρω" (65) "Κι άλλες διαβαίνουν και βλέποντας με τόσο θλιμμένο, / παίρνουν ένα λίγο από σένα/ στην απότομη χαρακιά του βαθιού μου πόνου (99) "Ούτε ξέρω για ποιον είναι αυτή η πίκρα" (121) "Συγχώρεσε με κύριε, πέθανα τόσο λίγο (133) "Η μούχλα που φύτρωσε καταμεσής του δρόμου / στους κλώνους της ξερής μηλιάς της νεκρής αυταπάτης" (135) "Βγήκα στην πόρτα / και μου ρχεται έτσι να φωνάξω σε όλους:/ αν σας λείπει τίποτα , να το, εδώ είναι " (133) "Όλα μου τα κόκαλα είναι ξένα / θαρρώ τα έχω κλεμμένα (...) Και σκέφτομαι πως αν δεν είχα γεννηθεί/ άλλος φτωχός θα έπινε τούτο τον καφέ " (141) "Υπάρχει μια βροχή από ερπετά/ στην παρθένα πληρότητα του 1 " (143) "Και πότε θα βρεθούμε με τους άλλους, στην άκρη / ενός αιωνίου πρωινού, όλοι κολατσισμενοι" (149) "Μόνο σαν πάψεις να είσαι, ο έρωτας είναι δυνατός" (151) "Κι υπάρχουν επιθυμίες να πεθάνω, χτυπημένος από δύο/ αντίθετα νερά που ποτέ δε θα ενωθούν" (159) "Ο πατέρας κοιμάται (...) Αν είναι κάτι πικρό σε αυτόν, αυτό ειμ εγώ" (171) ΤΡΙΛΘΕ (1922) " Σκέφτεται ο ενεστώτας να με φυλάξει/ γι αύριο αύριο αύριο αύριο" (185) " Να ρωτήσω σήμερα αν άφηνα / το θόλο κοστούμι της αδικίας " (189) "Σκέφτομαι το εφηβαίο σου (...)/ Και πεθαίνει ένα αρχαίο συναίσθημα / εκφυλισμένο σε σκέψη " (199) "Αυτό του να μην μπορείς να είσαι, υπάρχον " (201) "Έχω την πεποίθηση πως είμαι δυνατός./ Δώσε μου, κουλοχέρη αγερα, δώσε μου φευγιο / να φοράω γαλόνια από μηδενικά στ' αριστερά" (203) "Από κει πάει βαθουλωτη γυναίκα,/ ποσοτητα άχρωμη, που η χάρη της/ κλείνει εκεί που ανοίγομαι" (203) "Ο πετεινος έχει τις αβεβαιότητες του, άνθρωπε" (207) "Αλλά υποφέρω, δώθε υποφέρω, κειθε υποφέρω" (209) Υποχωρούν οι χερολατες σε άτυχο σπασμό/με αδυνατο σφυγμο κακοσυνηθισμενο/ να φυσάει τη μύτη του στο πίσω μέρος του καρπού" (217) "Και τι όμορφα μου κλαψουριζε τον έρωτα της/ που είχε κακοαποστηθισει" (237) "Κάνω προσπάθειες κι εγώ γιατί δεν έχει / αξία να φάω τούτα τα πουλιά./ Αχ! Ας σερβίρει ο ένας τον άλλο τίποτα" (249) "Κι αν έτσι σκονταψουμε/ στο παραλογο (...) Και θα κλωσσησουμε την αγέννητη φτερούγα" (249) "Καλό βεστιάριο, άνοιξε μου/ τα λευκά φύλλα σου(..) θέλω την άκρη του στηρίγματος σου, θέλω/ να μάθω τουλάχιστο να είμαι(253) "Και τι πως αγαπιέται πολύ! Εγώ με ψάχνω/ στο ίδιο μου το σχέδιο που έπρεπε να είναι έργο/ δικό μου, μάταια: τίποτα δεν ελευθερώθηκε" (267) ΑΝΘΡΩΠΙΝΑ ΠΟΙΗΜΑΤΑ (1923-1938) "Δεν είναι ευχάριστο να πεθαίνεις, κύριε, αν στη ζωή δεν αφήνεις τίποτα κι αν τίποτα δεν είναι δυνατό στο θάνατο, αλλά πάνω σ' αυτό που μένει στη ζωή" (311) "Πονώ χωρίς εξηγήσεις. Ο πόνος μου είναι τόσο βαθύς, που δεν είχε ποτέ αιτία κι ούτε του λείπει αιτία" (313) "Η σεξουαλική μου ταλάντευση έχει παγώσει" (321) "Κύριοι: ειμαι τόσο μικρούλης που μόλις και χωράει η μέρα μέσα μου/ (..) Αφήστε με! Η ζωή με χτύπησε τώρα σε όλο μου το θάνατο" (323) "Υπάρχει ένας ακροτηριασμενος, όχι από μια μάχη αλλά από ένα αγκάλιασμα " (331) "Μονάχα εσυ επιδειχνεις, Μπολσεβικε/ σαν κατεβαίνεις ή ανεβαίνεις απ' το στήθος σου (...) Τη συζυγική χειρονομία σου / το πατρικό σου πρόσωπο / τα πόδια σου εραστή / το δέρμα σου από το τηλέφωνο (341) "Αυτή είναι η απεραντοσύνη μου χοντρικά και χύμα(..) αυτές οι άγιες γραφές μου/ αυτοί οι ταραγμένοι όρχεις μου (...) Αυτό πρέπει να είναι το αλληλέγγυο σώμα μου/ που πάνω του άγρυπνα η ατομική ψυχή" (343) "Άρχισε η λησταρχινα η άνοιξη/ με τον όχλο των δυσκολιών μου / με τις πουκαμισοντυμενες μου δειλιες/ την τραγιασκα μου και το σοβιετικό μου δίκαιο / φορές εκείνες της δαφνοστεφανωμενης μπουκιας/ με σύμβολα, καπνό , κόσμο, και σάρκα (...) Στον ήχο των τραγουδισταδων όρχεων(349) "Ο Καίσαρας Βαλιεχο είναι νεκρός, τονε χτυπούσαν/ όλοι χωρίς εκείνος να τους έχει κάνει τίποτα" (351) "Μου αρέσει υπερβολικά η ζωή/ αλλά, ωστόσο/ με τον αγαπημένο θάνατο και τον καφέ μου" (359) "Θα διαμαρτυρηθώ, επαναλαμβάνω/ γιατί με χτυπάνε τόσο στην ψυχή" (361) "Ειλικρινα, θα ήταν καλύτερα/ να το τρώγαμε όλο, έτσι, δεν ξέρω πως..." (367) Αλλά η θλιμμένη μου θλιμαρα αποτελείται από οργή και θλίψη" (369) "Ανεβαίνει και κατεβαίνει η πολη, καμωμένη από αγκαλιασμενους λύκους" (371) "Σταματημένα στο ένα πόδι τα κινητά νερά" (373) "Ένα κομμάτι ψωμί, ούτε αυτό για μένα τώρα;" (385) "Τρεμεις; Είναι το μακρινό κράτος του μετωπου/ και το κοντινό έθνος του στομαχιού" (387) "Είναι σαν να με είχαν κατουρήσει" (391) "Τι άλλο μπορεί να κάνει πάρα να αλλάξει κλάμα;" 397 "Δε θέλει αυτό ο άνθρωπος / δε θέλει να μείνει στη ψυχή του" (407) "Εμπιστοσύνη στο παράθυρο , όχι στην πόρτα " (419) "Άκου τη μάζα σου, τον κομήτη σου, ακου τα μην κλαίς / από μνήμης (441) "Η ζωή; Αντιστασου της μ' ένα μέρος του θανάτου σου" (443) "Κι ας φύγουμε ακροπατωντας από τον εαυτό μας" 465 ΙΣΠΑΝΙΑ ΠΑΡΕΛΘΕΤΩ ΑΠ' ΕΜΟΥ ΤΟ ΠΟΤΗΡΙΟΝ ΤΟΥΤΟ (1938) "Σερνανε λουκέτο κιόλας οι δεσπότες/ και στο λουκέτο τα νεκρά τους μικρόβια..." 499 "Τα ίδια παπούτσια θα κάνουν σ΄όποιον ανεβαίνει/ δίχως δρόμους στο σώμα του/ και σ΄αυτόν που κατεβαίνει ως με το σχήμα της ψυχής του" (503) "Το πτώμα του ήταν γεμάτο κόσμο" 519 "Ο ποιητής χαιρετάει τον οπλισμένο πόνο" 521 "Τα καινούρια σεντονια είναι παράξενα / περπαταν αδερφέ περπαταν" 525 "Πέφτει νερό από πλυμένα περίστροφα" 533 "Φυλαξου απ' το δρεπάνι χώρις το σφυρί!/ Φυλαξου απ' το σφυρί χωρίς το δρεπάνι" (541) Ο Βαλιεχο διδάσκει πως να βαθαινεις μέσα σου , να αφήνεσαι στο παραλογο της ζωής, πώς ο θάνατος είναι ύλη, είναι μέρος της ζωής. Ο Βαλιεχο έγραψε μια ποίηση εσωτερική , τα πιο τρυφερά του ποιήματα επαναφερουν τη ζωή στην οικογενειακή θαλπωρή των παιδικών του χρόνων,βλέπει που υπάρχει ασφάλεια, εκεί με τη μητρική ανησυχία, εκείνης που ξυπνά τα αδέρφια, εκεί που υπάρχει φαι και παιχνίδι. Στα Ανθρώπινα ποιήματα υπάρχει πείνα, θάνατος , αντιφάσεις και μια απίθανη διαλεκτική όπου συγκρούονται όλα με τα αντίθετα τους// ο Βαλιεχο κόβεται συχνά στα δύο και συγκρούεται και με τον εαυτό του , ενώ ο Θεός ποτέ δεν παύει να παρουσιάζεται μέσα στην ποίηση του, μια ποίηση αγωνίας για τον ανθρώπινο πόνο και τον θάνατο. Στα ανθρώπινα ποιήματα, όπως και αλλού σποραδικά , υπάρχει ο μόχθος των εργατών , υπάρχει κάπου ο ύμνος των Μπολσεβίκων , υπάρχει μια σταδιακή εγκατάλειψη στην κούραση. Είναι πολλαπλές οι στιχουργικές στιγμές που ο Βαλιεχο ξαφνιάζει , εκπλήσσει , τόσο με τον σουρεαλισμό πριν τον σουρεαλισμό οσό και με τον πλούτο του εφιαλτικου του φαντασιακου. Το τελευταίο του έργο "Ισπανία:παρελθετω απ' εμού το ποτηριον τούτο " είναι ύμνος στους Δημοκρατικούς που ηττήθηκαν από τις φασιστικές λεγεώνες του Φράνκο, μια ήττα που είχε νιώσει οτι θα συνεβαινε ο ποιητής και που δεν είναι άσχετη με την οριστική του εγκατάλειψη στον θάνατο.

  8. 4 out of 5

    Damion

    Probably the greatest poet i have ever read. Line for line. Poem after poem. The poetry is rich, emotive, powerful and have amazing imagination. His words will take for mind into strange and creative places. They are a total mind trip like maybe doing psychedelics. Highly recommended for all creative writers. If there was one poet I would say read it would be this guy.

  9. 4 out of 5

    Edita

    However I imagine my life or imagine not having yet been born, I will not succeed in freeing myself. It will not be what is yet to come, but that which came and has already left, but that which came and has already left.

  10. 5 out of 5

    Raquel

    A obra do peruano Vallejo é monumental! Pese embora a sua vida tenha sido breve, com esta ele aprendeu muita dor (e alguma alegria); Homem sofrido, poderia dizer-se que a sua poesia já nasceu póstuma (à boa maneira nietzschiana). Vale a pena deixar esta obra sempre ao alcance, para um momento mais solitário, mais necessitado de beleza. A poesia em língua espanhola tem, de facto, sortilégios magníficos. ------- "...Algún penitente silencio siniestro? ¿Tú acaso lo escuchas? Inocente flor! … Y saber que A obra do peruano Vallejo é monumental! Pese embora a sua vida tenha sido breve, com esta ele aprendeu muita dor (e alguma alegria); Homem sofrido, poderia dizer-se que a sua poesia já nasceu póstuma (à boa maneira nietzschiana). Vale a pena deixar esta obra sempre ao alcance, para um momento mais solitário, mais necessitado de beleza. A poesia em língua espanhola tem, de facto, sortilégios magníficos. ------- "...Algún penitente silencio siniestro? ¿Tú acaso lo escuchas? Inocente flor! … Y saber que donde no hay un Padrenuestro, el Amor es un Cristo pecador!"

  11. 5 out of 5

    AL

    He may be my favorite all-time poet, but such grand proclamations are always problematic when you love so many other authors, like Rimbaud, Lorca, Rilke, Keith Douglas, Plath, Elizabeth Bishop, etc. All I know, is that I have just received this book in the mail today and it is everything and more than my expectations of joy had anticipated. It is good to have the immense thrill of discovery at this middle age of life. I have owned and loved the Posthumous Poetry for almost ten or more years and He may be my favorite all-time poet, but such grand proclamations are always problematic when you love so many other authors, like Rimbaud, Lorca, Rilke, Keith Douglas, Plath, Elizabeth Bishop, etc. All I know, is that I have just received this book in the mail today and it is everything and more than my expectations of joy had anticipated. It is good to have the immense thrill of discovery at this middle age of life. I have owned and loved the Posthumous Poetry for almost ten or more years and always held them in high regard, and sort of never thought about that book being his unpublished unknown poems, and that there was more out there, having never come across a copy of this Complete Poetry book in my searches. Now in this internet age, searching and finding things is so much easier and not at the mercy of less knowledgable book buyers in the regional bookstores you are stuck with. The shipping update said it had just shipped last night, so I did not expect it on my doorstep today, and there it was, and now I am overcome with the joy of the opportunity just to read the poetry, and after reading the first 30 pages of "The Black Heralds" I am overcome with the lyrical mastery of Vallejo. Such beauty and emotional resonance, exceeding even my love of Lorca or Rimbaud. Post-script: After finishing the entire book by reading out loud to myself, I am still in awe of it's supreme greatness amongst all poetry. I will be rereading this over and over the rest of my life.

  12. 5 out of 5

    B. Asma

    The Complete Poetry: A Bilingual Edition is an enjoyable poetry book to read, even though some of these poems among Vallejo's four collections are not immediately crystal clear to the understanding. Even so, the translator Clayton Eshleman has rendered Ricardo González Vigil's Spanish edition of Vallejo into something melodious and sharp, i.e., has kept close to Vallejo's words, meaning, and rhythm. The groups of poems contained here--Los Heraldos Negros, Trilce, Poemas Humanos, and España de Mí The Complete Poetry: A Bilingual Edition is an enjoyable poetry book to read, even though some of these poems among Vallejo's four collections are not immediately crystal clear to the understanding. Even so, the translator Clayton Eshleman has rendered Ricardo González Vigil's Spanish edition of Vallejo into something melodious and sharp, i.e., has kept close to Vallejo's words, meaning, and rhythm. The groups of poems contained here--Los Heraldos Negros, Trilce, Poemas Humanos, and España de Mí Este Cáliz--are all different in scope and style. This book is sure to make readers fans of Vallejo.

  13. 4 out of 5

    Alejandro

    En un año de llantos humanos, desamores y desesperanzas, después de Vallejo volví a nacer de verás. Quiero decir, como un hombre que sufre solamente. No está mal que la naturaleza del dolor sea el dolor dos veces. Hay que amar el dolor. Entonces podremos ser verdaderamente humanos, verdaderamente felices en nuestro ser nada más que muertos siempre. Cadáveres bien vivos. Me fallan las palabras para agradecer la existencia de este hombre peruano en un mundo donde nací para sufrir por quién sabe qu En un año de llantos humanos, desamores y desesperanzas, después de Vallejo volví a nacer de verás. Quiero decir, como un hombre que sufre solamente. No está mal que la naturaleza del dolor sea el dolor dos veces. Hay que amar el dolor. Entonces podremos ser verdaderamente humanos, verdaderamente felices en nuestro ser nada más que muertos siempre. Cadáveres bien vivos. Me fallan las palabras para agradecer la existencia de este hombre peruano en un mundo donde nací para sufrir por quién sabe qué motivos. A lo mejor hay preguntas sin respuesta y esas son las que nos hacen resistir. No soy ningún estudioso pero yo creo que a eso se refería César con su "Yo no sé...". Y sí: "Hay golpes en la vida, tan fuertes...¡YO NO SÉ!"

  14. 4 out of 5

    Sara Barberán

    César Vallejo es uno de los mejores poetas que he leído, un imprescindible que ya había llegado a mi vida sin yo saberlo a través de la obra de Sabina, uno de sus más fieles lectores. Lo que Vallejo hizo con el lenguaje va mucho más allá de un uso connotado y poético. Se tata de romperlo, retorcerlo, pero no en dirección al barroquismo o a lo patético, sino más bien a una ruptura con las formas del decir. De algún modo corrompe la lengua para generar imágenes y sobre todo mensajes que calan prec César Vallejo es uno de los mejores poetas que he leído, un imprescindible que ya había llegado a mi vida sin yo saberlo a través de la obra de Sabina, uno de sus más fieles lectores. Lo que Vallejo hizo con el lenguaje va mucho más allá de un uso connotado y poético. Se tata de romperlo, retorcerlo, pero no en dirección al barroquismo o a lo patético, sino más bien a una ruptura con las formas del decir. De algún modo corrompe la lengua para generar imágenes y sobre todo mensajes que calan precisamente por la incomodidad, el nuevo lugar al que llevan al lector y que lo obligan a entender la poesía desde lugares-otros. Desde la fractura y lo corrupto, pero en el más positivo de los sentidos.

  15. 5 out of 5

    Damián

    Cuando tengo un tiempo, lo agarro y leo sus poemas. Me he acostumbrado a no entender los poemas completamente. Hay una parte que siempre queda varada, a la espera de que el lector haga lo suyo y aporte un significado propio a las series de versos. Los cortes y desorganizaciones gramaticales chocan en un primer momento, se pelea con la legibilidad. Los mismos poemas, en sus detalles, obligan a un ritmo de lectura lento y repetitivo. Es por eso que el libro ha encontrado su lugar en la cómoda de mi Cuando tengo un tiempo, lo agarro y leo sus poemas. Me he acostumbrado a no entender los poemas completamente. Hay una parte que siempre queda varada, a la espera de que el lector haga lo suyo y aporte un significado propio a las series de versos. Los cortes y desorganizaciones gramaticales chocan en un primer momento, se pelea con la legibilidad. Los mismos poemas, en sus detalles, obligan a un ritmo de lectura lento y repetitivo. Es por eso que el libro ha encontrado su lugar en la cómoda de mi baño. Los errores chocan. Pero luego uno mira alrededor, y la vida propia está lejos de ser perfecta. Así que es solamente un poco más humano. "poemas humanos" es mi libro favorito. Menos ampuloso y con menores aspiraciones artísticas de Trilce, busca temas de la vida diaria y comunes al humano, para usar como lienzo y que se luzcan las estructuras volátiles que va armando a lo largo del poemario. "O vino que enviudó de esta botella/botella que enviudó de este vino" Creo que es así la cita. Posar la imaginación y la vista sobre algo tan trillado como la botella para renovarlo y darle nuevas dimensiones. Totalmente recomendable, mejor que la gran mayoría de los libros. Un libro tan pequeño y tan lleno de significado como este es difícil de encontrar.

  16. 4 out of 5

    Reyes

    Sin duda me quedo con el poemario "Los heraldos negros", un poemario algo hermético sí, pero accesible y que muestra la rabia y la desolación de un hombre que se siente abandonado por Dios, que no para de recibir constantes golpes en su vida y no entiende por qué. Trilce es un poemario mucho más complicado, con tres vertientes claras, pero de los 70 poemas que lo componen, puedes acceder de primeras a menos de la mitad, y eso es algo que a mí no me ha gustado. Después tenemos Poemas humanos y Espa Sin duda me quedo con el poemario "Los heraldos negros", un poemario algo hermético sí, pero accesible y que muestra la rabia y la desolación de un hombre que se siente abandonado por Dios, que no para de recibir constantes golpes en su vida y no entiende por qué. Trilce es un poemario mucho más complicado, con tres vertientes claras, pero de los 70 poemas que lo componen, puedes acceder de primeras a menos de la mitad, y eso es algo que a mí no me ha gustado. Después tenemos Poemas humanos y España aparte de mí este cáliz, dos poemarios muy distintos, pero donde vemos a un Vallejo más comprometido con la sociedad y más abierto al mundo, más empático con la sociedad y menos encerrado en sí mismo. Me ha gustado mucho ver en estos dos poemarios el aperturismo del poeta con el mundo y su avance y cambio de mentalidad.

  17. 4 out of 5

    Roger Bailey

    I am not a fan of poetry. In fact, I dislike poetry. It is because that it really does not make much sense to me and it is because it seems to be some kind of word game without any clear rules. In the case of this book, I found it on the listopia list for books with an average rating of 4.50 or above and it did, indeed, have an average rating that was above that level. I supposed that it got thagt rating from poetry fans and I am not one of them, but if so many people thought it was that great t I am not a fan of poetry. In fact, I dislike poetry. It is because that it really does not make much sense to me and it is because it seems to be some kind of word game without any clear rules. In the case of this book, I found it on the listopia list for books with an average rating of 4.50 or above and it did, indeed, have an average rating that was above that level. I supposed that it got thagt rating from poetry fans and I am not one of them, but if so many people thought it was that great then I decided to try it out to see what they thought was so great about it. I need not have bothered. Just like most other poetry I don't see the attraction. It did nothing for me. So the Goodreads rating guidelines say that one star is for books that one does not like and because I didn't like it I give it one star.

  18. 5 out of 5

    Sean A.

    vallejo, at least throughout most of this book creates his own world(s). his syntax, lexicon, ummm, words, are a unique creation orbiting around his sense of hubris, eros, and tragedy. he conveys a fine tuned, vast, parsed sense of emotion. and oh! his sadness! and intensity, yet there is more to it than that for in this his words also translate an immense richness. on a different note, i just checked orwell's 'homage to catolonia' out from the library. vallejo's final grouping of poems, 'spain t vallejo, at least throughout most of this book creates his own world(s). his syntax, lexicon, ummm, words, are a unique creation orbiting around his sense of hubris, eros, and tragedy. he conveys a fine tuned, vast, parsed sense of emotion. and oh! his sadness! and intensity, yet there is more to it than that for in this his words also translate an immense richness. on a different note, i just checked orwell's 'homage to catolonia' out from the library. vallejo's final grouping of poems, 'spain take this cup from me' is wetting my lips to know more about the situation in the ole' spanish civil war. ...and lastly, in eschelman's 'translation memoire' we experience echoes of bolano's labyrinths of the perpetual underground of the world's literature, poetries and translations.

  19. 4 out of 5

    Claudia Rivas

    Dios, todo el día lloriqueando, no lo soporto.

  20. 4 out of 5

    Jordani Vidarte

    El mejor poeta latinoamericano y punto.

  21. 5 out of 5

    Emily

    Most of the poems are clearly well-written, but I just don't feel 'connected' to any of them at all. Most of the poems are clearly well-written, but I just don't feel 'connected' to any of them at all.

  22. 4 out of 5

    Fleur

    Very ornery and glorious poetry.

  23. 4 out of 5

    Víctor Sampayo

    Este libro me pegó bien recio en varios momentos, o mejor dicho, hay una buena cantidad de poemas que me pegaron bien recio en diversas partes de esta recopilación de la poesía completa de César Vallejo. Hay lapsos verdaderamente epifánicos escondidos entre la espesura de las frases, y uno de pronto se ve a sí mismo abismado en alguna reflexión, nacida de una fulgurante metáfora, o incluso ofrendando algunas lágrimas de desamparo, de alegría, de soledad, porque pareciera que al haber visto con t Este libro me pegó bien recio en varios momentos, o mejor dicho, hay una buena cantidad de poemas que me pegaron bien recio en diversas partes de esta recopilación de la poesía completa de César Vallejo. Hay lapsos verdaderamente epifánicos escondidos entre la espesura de las frases, y uno de pronto se ve a sí mismo abismado en alguna reflexión, nacida de una fulgurante metáfora, o incluso ofrendando algunas lágrimas de desamparo, de alegría, de soledad, porque pareciera que al haber visto con tal minuciosidad en su interior, César Vallejo de alguna misteriosa manera ha visto también en el tuyo, como lector. Y es una zona tan blanda y sensible que quedas expuesto, desvalido, como caracol puesto al sol.

  24. 5 out of 5

    Bere Tarará

    Le tengo mucho cariño a este autor, me parece uno de los más completos e importantes de Latinoamérica, su poesía social no pierde calidad y tiene méritos más allá de pertenecer a una postura ideológica políticamente correcta

  25. 5 out of 5

    maría victoria lópez

    descripciones tanto hermosas como crudas, genera empatía con el autor

  26. 4 out of 5

    rarovar

    "Hay golpes en la vida tan fuertes... yo no sé!" "Hay golpes en la vida tan fuertes... yo no sé!"

  27. 4 out of 5

    Karina

    Poco se puede agregar a lo ya dicho sobre este genio de la poesía. Su obra llega a las fibras de mi alma.

  28. 5 out of 5

    Nicolas Arce Berrios

    Sublime

  29. 5 out of 5

    M.

    Read for The Literary Life Podcast: 20 for 2020 Reading Challenge. 18. A Complete Volume of Poetry by a Single Author Good to get a complete overview of Vallejo, I have to say that Los Heraldos Negros and Poemas Humanos have the best of his poetry, especially the first. Trilce and España, aparta de mi este cáliz, though moments of change, don't quite resonate with me as much. I get the sonority and what he's trying to say, but the later really has a lot of partiality in what Spain was going throu Read for The Literary Life Podcast: 20 for 2020 Reading Challenge. 18. A Complete Volume of Poetry by a Single Author Good to get a complete overview of Vallejo, I have to say that Los Heraldos Negros and Poemas Humanos have the best of his poetry, especially the first. Trilce and España, aparta de mi este cáliz, though moments of change, don't quite resonate with me as much. I get the sonority and what he's trying to say, but the later really has a lot of partiality in what Spain was going through at the moment, with the author decidedly taking the Republican (Lefty) side. All in all, it's a good idea to never neglect Latin American poetry.

  30. 4 out of 5

    Jorge

    Tremendo silogismo en el plato lunático porque los hombres andan clavando en sus espaldas la luciérnaga hervida de sus sudores. Una esquina en la página ropa, el baile de los dados formando diminutos, toda la cenicienta en la frente rumbosa, en la palma difusa, en la blancura rota. Vallejo sedicioso, sediento vagabundo de suelas como alas gastadas de desuso, osamenta macilenta de caricia amarilla, en tiempo ya no gira, ya no mueve su cola. (JDM a CV)

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