There Will Be Poetry
Don’t say, its treasures used up
and short on themes, the lyre has gone silent.
The world could run out of poets, but always
there will be poetry.
As long as burning waves throb
at light’s kiss;
as long as the sun dresses the tattered clouds
in fire and gold;
as long as the breeze carries perfumes and harmonies
in its lap;
as long as there is spring in the world,
there will be poetry!
As long as science fails to discover
the sources of life,
and in the sea or the sky there is an abyss
that resists calculation;
as long as humanity, always advancing,
doesn’t know where it walks;
as long as there is a mystery for mankind,
there will be poetry!
As long as we laugh without laughter
escaping our lips;
as long as we cry without tears
clouding our eyes;
as long as the heart and the head
keep battling;
as long as there are hopes, memories,
there will be poetry!
As long as there are eyes that reflect the eyes that
contemplate them;
as long as there are sighing lips that respond to lips that
sigh for them;
as long as two souls intermingle
in a kiss;
as long as there is a beautiful woman,
there will be poetry!
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Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (1836-1870) lived and died in relative obscurity, but has come to be known as one of Spain’s greatest poets.
Charles Patterson lives in absolute obscurity and loves to read Spain’s greatest poets.
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