¿Poemas de amor en ingles?¿Cuáles son los poemas en ingles mas famosos? El inglés es un idioma hermoso, rico y lleno de vida.
Para los amantes de la poesía como lenguaje del alma, es impensable que esté atada a un idioma y con las herramientas modernas de traducción ¿Por qué no disfrutar de bellos poemas de amor en inglés?
Poemas de amor en ingles por escritores famosos
Grandes poetas como William Shakespeare, Samuel Becket, Oscar Wilde, Robert Lee Frost o Emily Dickinson, han llevado su poesía por todo el mundo, enamorando y sintiendo en cada latido, en cada verso.
1. William Shakepeare
El autor de la mundialmente famosa Romeo y Julieta y de otros dramas como Hamlet, el británico William Shakepeare, plasmó en cada una de sus obras todo su corazón y, medio milenio después, puede estremercenos los sentidos con sus sentidos versos.
Su obra teatral la «Tragedia de Hamlet, Príncipe de Dinamarca» (título original en inglés: The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark), también conocida sólo como Hamlet, está repleta de versos hermosos, pero quizás, uno de los más famosos es aquel en en el que el protagonista cuestiona su propia existencia, con su «ser o no ser, ahí, está el dilema. Ese escena lleva por nombre «A room in the castle«.
Poema Scene I. A room in the castle (William Shakespeare)
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.Advertisement
2. Samuel Becket
Samuel Barclay Beckett, fue un poeta, novelista y dramaturgo irlandés. Nació a principios del siglo 20, en 1906 y murió en 1989. Fue premio Nobel de Literaratura 1969. En su poema Ascension, Ascensión en castellano, Becket.
Poema Ascension (Samuel Becket)
through the slim partition
this day when a child
prodigal in his own way
returned into the family
I hear a voice
it is excited it comments
on the football world cup
forever too young
meanwhile through the open window
over the air in a word
heavily
a sea swell of the faithful
her blood spurted in abundance
on the sheets on the sweet peas on her bloke
he closed the eyelids with filthy fingers
on the green eyes big with surprise
she lightly roams
over my tomb of air
3. Oscar Wilde
Es uno de los escritores y poetas más representativos de la literatura inglesa. Era irlandés, al igual que Samuel Becket y murió en Francia, como un indigente. Era homosexual, y por ello fue condenado a dos años de prisión en su país natal, donde cumplió trabajos forzados.
Estando en la cárcel de Reading, presenció la ejecución de un reo, un exmilitar inglés llamado Charles Thomas Wooldridge, quien había degollado a su esposa un año antes.
La muerte de este prisionero impresionó tanto a Wilde, que aparece en varios versos de su último poema: Balada de la Cárcel de Reading (en inglés en el original, Ballad of Reading Gaol), con frases como: «Aunque todos los hombres matan lo que aman».
Poema Ballad of Reading Gaol (Oscar Wilde)
He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead,
The poor dead woman whom he loved,
And murdered in her bed.He walked amongst the Trial Men
In a suit of shabby grey;
A cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every drifting cloud that went
With sails of silver by.AdvertisementI walked, with other souls in pain,
Within another ring,
And was wondering if the man had done
A great or little thing,
When a voice behind me whispered low,
“That fellow’s got to swing.”Dear Christ! the very prison walls
Suddenly seemed to reel,
And the sky above my head became
Like a casque of scorching steel;
And, though I was a soul in pain,
My pain I could not feel.I only knew what hunted thought
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved,
And so he had to die.AdvertisementYet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a keiss,
The brave man with a sword!Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,S
ome with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife because
The dead so soon grow cold.II
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.AdvertisementHe does not die a death of shame
On a day of dark disgrace,
Nor have a noose about his neck,
Nor a cloth upon his face,
Nor drop feet foremost through the floor
Into an empty space.He does not sit with silent men
Who watch him night and day;
Who watch him when he tries to weep,
And when he tries to pray;
Who watch him lest himself should rob
The prison of its prey.He does not wake at dawn to see
Dread figures throng his room,
The shivering Chaplain robed in white,
The Sheriff stern with gloom,
And the Governor all in shiny black,
With the yellow face of Doom.AdvertisementHe does not rise in piteous haste
To put on convict-clothes,
While some coarse-mouthed Doctor gloats, and notes
Each new and nerve-twitched pose,
Fingering a watch whose little ticks
Are like horrible hammer-blows.He does not know that sickening thirst
That sands one’s throat, before
The hangman with his gardener’s gloves
Slips through the padded door,
And binds one with three leathern thongs,
That the throat may thirst no more.He does not bend his head to hear
The Burial Office read,
Nor, while the terror of his soul
Tells him he is not dead,
Cross his own coffin, as he moves
Into the hideous shed.AdvertisementHe does not stare upon the air
Through a little roof of glass:
He does not pray with lips of clay
For his agony to pass;
Nor feel upon his shuddering cheek
The kiss of Caiaphas.
4. Robert Lee Frost
Fue un poeta estadounidense considerado el fundador de la poesía moderna de su país. Su prosa se hizo especialmente popular, además de su belleza, por su sencillez.
Poema The road not taken (Robert Lee Frost)
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.AdvertisementAnd both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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5. Emily Dickinson
Es una de las poetisas más importantes de habla inglesa. Su prosa se considera apasionada. Pese a su talento, en vida no llegó a publicar ni una docena de sus poemas. Nació en Estados Unidos en 1830 y murió en 1886.
En su poema It might be lonelier (Podría estar más sola, en castellano), Dickinson desnuda sus sentimientos de soledad y de resignación ante su trsite destino.
Poema It might be lonelier (Emily Dickinson)
It might be lonelier
Without the Loneliness—
I’m so accustomed to my Fate—
Perhaps the Other—Peace—
Would interrupt the Dark—
And crowd the little Room—
Too scant—by Cubits—to contain
The Sacrament—of Him—I am not used to Hope—
It might intrude upon—
Its sweet parade—blaspheme the place—
Ordained to Suffering—It might be easier
To fail—with Land in Sight—
Than gain—My Blue Peninsula—
To perish—of Delight—Advertisement
Los sentimientos son universales, no importa el idioma, mueven los sentidos, erizan la piel y nos trasladan a universos de amor y dolor.
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