The 21 best poems by Garcilaso de la Vega

Garcilaso de la Vega was a famous Spanish poet and military man of the so-called "Golden Age" (a relevant period in which Spanish arts and letters emerged).

This fantastic writer spoke several languages, including French or Latin, he also knew how to play the harp and the lute. Garcilaso de la Vega was also related throughout his life with numerous Spanish nobles such as King Carlos I of Spain or Fernando Álvarez de Toledo, the Grand Duke of Alba.

The best poems and verses of Garcilaso de la Vega

Who has not ever heard of this respected author? If you are one of those who have never heard of him or have never enjoyed any of his works.

In the text that you will find below You can discover 21 poems by Garcilaso de la Vega that we should all know.

1. A while my hope rises

A while my hope rises,

more tired of having gotten up,

returns to fall, that leaves, to my bad degree,

free the place to mistrust.

Who will suffer such a harsh move

from good to evil? Oh tired heart

strive in the misery of your state,

that after fortune there is usually a bonanza!

I myself will undertake by force of arms

break a mountain that another did not break,

of a thousand very thick inconveniences;

death, prison cannot, nor pregnancies,

take away from going to see you however I want,

naked spirit or man in flesh and blood.

2. Oh jealousy, of terrible brake love!

Oh jealousy, of terrible love brake

that at a point it returns to me and is strong;

brothers of cruelty, dishonored death

that with your sight you make the sky serene!

Oh serpent born in sweet womb

of beautiful flowers, that my hope is death:

after prosperous beginnings, bad luck,

after soft delicacy, strong poison!

From what infernal fury did you come out here,

oh cruel monster, oh plague of mortals,

How sad, raw my days did you make?

Go to hell without mentioning my ills;

unfortunate fear, what did you come for?

that love was enough with its regrets.

3. Anyway, into your hands I have come

Finally into your hands I have come,

do I know that I have to die so tight

that even alleviate my care with complaints

as a remedy it is already defended me;

my life I do not know what has been sustained

if it is not in having been saved

so that only in me it would be tested

how much a sword cuts in one surrender.

My tears have been shed

where dryness and roughness

they gave bad fruit of them, and my luck:

Those that I have cried for you are enough;

take no more revenge on me with my weakness;

There avenge you, lady, with my death!

4. The sea between and lands I have left

The sea between and lands I have left

of how much good, careful, I had;

and going away each day,

people, customs, languages ​​I have passed.

When I come back I am suspicious;

I think remedies in my fantasy

and the one that I hope the most is that day

that life and care will end.

From any evil he could help me

to see you, lady, or wait for it,

If I could wait for it without losing it;

more than not seeing you anymore to be worth it,

if it is not dying, I find no remedy,

And if this one is, I won't be able to talk about it either.

5. Love, love, a habit I wore

Love, love, a habit I wore

which of your cloth was cut;

when dressing wide it was, tighter

And tight when it was on me

After here what I consented,

such regret has taken me,

that I ever taste, of heartbroken,

to break this that I got myself into.

But who can get rid of this habit,

having so contrary his nature,

who has come to settle with him?

If any part remains by chance

of my reason, for me I do not dare to show myself;

that in such a contradiction she is not sure.

6. Your gesture is written in my soul

Your gesture is written in my soul, and how much I wish to write about you; You alone wrote it, I read it. so alone, that even of you I keep myself in this.

In this I am and always will be; that although it does not fit in me how much I see in you, of so much good what I do not understand, I believe, taking faith as a budget.

I was not born except to love you; my soul has cut you to its size; out of habit of the soul itself I love you.

When I have I confess I owe you; I was born for you, for you I have life, for you I must die, and for you I die.

7. Oh sweet garments, by me badly found!

Oh sweet garments, found wrong by me,

sweet and happy when God wanted!

Together you are in my memory,

and with her in my death conjured.

Who told me, when in the past

hours as much good for you via me,

that you were to be me sometime

with such severe pain represented?

Well, in an hour together you took me

all the good that you gave me by terms,

take me together the evil that you left me.

If not, I will suspect that you put me

in so many goods because you wanted

see me die between sad memories.

8. While rose and lily

While rose and lily

the color is shown in your gesture,

and that your fiery, honest look

he kindles the heart and restrains it;

and as long as the hair, that in the vein

from the gold was chosen, with swift flight,

for the beautiful white collar, upright,

the wind moves, scatters and messes up;

take hold of your joyful spring

the sweet fruit, before the angry time

cover the beautiful summit with snow.

The icy wind will wither the rose,

light age will change everything,

for not moving in his habit.

9. Inside my soul was begotten of me

Inside my soul was begotten of me

a sweet love, and of my feeling

so approved was his birth

as of a single desired son;

more after him was born who has ravaged

the whole loving thought:

that in harsh rigor and in great torment

the first delights has bartered.

Oh crude grandson, who gives life to the father,

and you kill grandpa! Why do you grow up

so dissatisfied with the one you were born from?

10. Thank heaven I give that already from the neck

Thank heaven I give that already from the neck

I have completely shaken the grave yoke,

and that of the wind the stormy sea

I will see from the earth without fear;

I will see hanging by a subtle hair

the life of the imbibed lover

in his mistake, and in his dormant deception,

deaf to the voices that warn him of it.

11. Here where the roman kindle

Here where the Roman kindled,

where fire and licentious flame

only the name left Carthage,

come back and stir my thought love,

wounds and ignites the fearful soul,

and in tears and in ashes I undo.

12. I am still in tears bathed

I am still in tears bathed,

breaking the air always with sighs;

and it hurts me more not to dare to tell you

that I have reached such a state for you;

that seeing me where I am and what I have walked

down the narrow path of following you,

if I want to turn to flee,

fainting, seeing behind what I have left;

13. Take me to that scary place

Take me to that scary place

that, for not seeing my death sculpted there,

closed up to here I had my eyes.

The weapons I put now, that granted

It is not so long a defense to the miserable;

hang my spoil in your cart.

14. Thinking that the road was going straight

Thinking that the road was going straight

I came to stop in such misfortune,

I can't imagine, even madly,

something that is a while satisfied.

The wide field seems narrow to me,

the clear night for me is dark;

the sweet company, bitter and hard,

and a hard battlefield the bed.

Of the dream, if there is any, that part

alone, which is the image of death,

it suits the weary soul.

Anyway, I'm fine with art anyway,

that I judge by the hour less strong,

although in her I saw myself, the one that is past.

15. If at your will I am made of wax

If at your will I am made of wax,

and for the sun I have only your sight,

which who does not inflame or does not conquer

by looking at it, it is meaningless outside;

Where does one thing come from, what, if it were

less times of me tried and seen,

it seems that reason resists,

not believe in my own sense?

And it is that I am from afar inflamed

of your burning sight and on

so much so that in life I barely sustain myself;

more if I am attacked closely

from your eyes, then I feel frozen

the blood curdling through my veins.

16. July, after I left crying

July, after I left crying

from whom my thought never starts,

and I left that part of my soul

that the body was giving life and strength,

from my good to myself I am taking

close account, and I feel of such art

missing all the good, that I fear in part

that I must be short of breath when I breathe;

and with this fear my tongue proves

to reason with you, oh sweet friend,

of the bitter memory of that day

in which I started as a witness

to be able to give, of your soul, new

and to know it from the voice of my soul.

17. With such force and vigor are concerted

With such force and vigor are concerted

for my downfall the harsh winds,

that cut off my tender thoughts

then they were shown about me.

The bad thing is that I have the care

safe from these events,

that are hard, and have foundations

in all my senses well cast.

Although on the other hand I do not grieve,

since the good left me with his departure,

of the grave evil that is continually in me;

before with him I hug and console myself;

because in the process of such a hard life

cut the length of the road.

18. Very clear marquis, in whom he pours

Very clear marquis, in whom he pours

Heaven knows how well the world knows;

if the great value in which the subject founded,

and the clear glow of our flame

I'll bring up my pen, and do the flame

the voice of your name high and deep,

you will be only eternal and without a second,

and for you immortal who loves you so much.

How much of the long sky do you want,

how much on earth is sought,

everything is in you from part to part;

and, in short, from only you formed nature

a strange and out of sight to the world idea.

and he made art equal to thought.

19. With extreme eagerness to see what he has

With extreme eagerness to see what he has

your chest hidden there in its center,

and see if the outside is inside

in appearance and being the same is convenient,

I set my sights on it: more stops

of your beauty the hard encounter

my eyes, and they don't go so deep

let them look at what the soul itself contains.

And so they stay sad at the door

made, by my pain, with that hand

that even his own breast does not forgive;

where I clearly saw my dead hope.

and the blow, that made you love in vain

non esservi passato oltra la gona.

20. Oh executive fate in my sorrows!

Oh executive fate in my pains,

how I felt your rigorous laws!

You cut down the tree with evil hands,

and scattered fruit and flowers on the ground.

In a little space the loves lie,

and all the hope of my things

tornadoes to disdainful ashes,

and deaf to my complaints and cries.

The tears that in this grave

are poured today and poured,

receive, even if they are without fruit there,

until that eternal dark night

I closed those eyes that saw you,

leaving me with others to see you.

21. The foundation is overthrown

The foundation is overthrown

that my tired living supported.

Oh how well it ends in just one day!

Oh how many hopes the wind carries!

Oh how idle is my thought

when he takes care of my own good!

To my hope, as well as to waste,

my torment punishes her a thousand times.

The most times I surrender, other times I resist

with such fury, with a new strength,

that a mountain placed on top would break.

This is the desire that takes me,

to want to see again one day

who was better never to have seen.