10 of the most beautiful poems of the 20th century to send on WhatsApp

Everything beautiful is linked to the world of art, a place where aesthetics and feelings can be appreciated through words, sounds or colours. But The poems especially stand out.

THE Poets are those who give value and meaning to wordswith the combination of some they create great works of art and generate unexpected emotions and feelings.

It is common to find it on social networks poems or verses by recognized authorswho expressed reflections on their experiences, from Bécquer, Shakespeare, Lorca, among others.

THE poetry has influenced all literary genres over time, with his ability to manage the linguistic, phonetic and morphosyntax resources used to write his verses.

The 10 most beautiful poems of the 20th century

1. Mirror by Sylvia Plath

“I am silvery and exact. I have no prejudices. Everything I see I swallow immediately as it is, without being clouded by love or disgust. I am not cruel, I am sincere, the eye of a little four-cornered god the time that I move to meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink, in spots. I have looked at it so much that it seems to me that it is already part of my heart. Even if intermittently. The faces and the darkness separate us again and again. Now I am a lake . A woman bends over me, searching my expanse for her true self. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and shaking hands hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes. It is her face, every morning, that replaces the darkness. In me she has drowned a girl, and in me an old woman rises towards her day after day, like a “terrible fish”.

2.I like my body when… by E.E. Cummings

“I like it when my body is next to yours. It’s something so new. Better muscles and more nervous. I like your body. What it does, its ways. I like feeling the spine of your body and its bones , and the tremor – still – delicacy and of which time and time and time I will kiss, I like to kiss this and that of you, I like, slowly stroking, the shocking hair of your electric skin, and of what comes on your open flesh … And the big eyes of loving crumbs, and maybe I like the charm under mine, of yours so new.”

3.Romance of the moon, moon by Federico Garcia Lorca

“The moon came to the forge with its tuberose bustle. The little girl looks at her, looks at her. The little girl looks at her. In the moved air the moon moves her arms and shows, lewd and pure, her breasts of hard tin. moon runs away, moon, moon. If the gypsies came, they would make white necklaces and rings with your heart. Little girl, let me dance. When the gypsies come, they will find you on the anvil with your little eyes closed. Run away moon, moon, moon, I already feel their horses Child, leave me alone, do not trample on my starched whiteness.. The knight approached, playing the drum of the plain. Inside the forge, the child has his eyes closed. Through the olive grove they came, bronze and sleepy , the gypsies. Their heads raised and their eyes closed. Their eyes half closed. How the zumaya sings, oh how she sings on the tree! The moon goes across the sky with the child next to her hand. Inside the forge the gypsies cry, shout . The air watches over her, watches over her. The air watches over her.”

4.Autumn song in spring by Ruben Dario

“Youth, divine treasure, you are leaving never to return! When I feel like crying, I don’t cry… and sometimes I cry without wanting to… Plural has been the heavenly story of my heart. I was a sweet girl, in this world of mourning and sorrow. She looked like pure dawn; she smiled like a flower. Her dark hair was made of night and sorrow. I was as shy as a child. She, of course, was, for my love made of ermine, Herodias and Salome…Youth, divine treasure, you are leaving never to return! When I feel like crying, I don’t cry… and sometimes I cry without wanting to… And more comforting and more flattering and expressive, the The other was more sensitive than I would have ever thought I would find. Because his continuous tenderness was united by a violent passion. In a peplos of pure gauze a Bacchante wrapped herself… In her arms she took my dream and cradled it, sleep like a child… And he killed you, sad and small, without light, without faith… Youth, divine treasure, you have gone away never to return! When I want to cry, I don’t cry… and sometimes I cry without wanting to… Another judged that my mouth was the case of her passion; and that she would gnaw my heart, crazy, with her teeth. Setting her eyes of her will on a love of excess, while they were embrace and kiss synthesis of eternity; and of our light flesh we always imagine an Eden, without thinking that Spring and flesh also end… Youth, divine treasure, you are leaving never to return! When I feel like crying, I don’t cry… and sometimes I cry without wanting to. And the others! In many climates, in many lands they are always, if not pretexts for my rhymes, ghosts of my heart. In vain I looked for the princess who was sad to wait. Life is hard. Bitter and heavy. There’s no princess left to sing! But despite the stubborn weather, my thirst for love has no end; With gray hair I approach the rose bushes in the garden… Youth, divine treasure, you are leaving never to return! When I feel like crying, I don’t cry… and sometimes I cry without wanting to… But the Golden Dawn is mine!”

5. The dove was wrong by Raffaello Alberti

“The dove was wrong, she was wrong. Going north she went south, she believed that the grain was water. She believed that the sea was the sky that the night was the morning. That the stars were the dew, that the heat was the snowfall. That your skirt was your blouse, your heart was your home. (She fell asleep on the shore, you on top of a branch.)”

6.Poetry XX by Pablo Neruda

“I can write the saddest lines tonight. Write, for example: “The night is starry, and the stars tremble, blue, in the distance.” The night wind turns in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest lines tonight. I loved, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights like this I held her in my arms. I kissed her many times under the infinite sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her too. How could I not love her big eyes fixed. Tonight I can write the saddest verses. Thinking that I don’t have her. Feeling that I have lost her. Listening to the immense night, more immense without her. And the verse falls in the soul as the dew falls on the grass. What does it matter that my love has not held her back. The night is starry and she is not with me. That’s all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not happy at having lost her. As if to bring her closer, my gaze seeks her. My heart seeks her, and she is not with me. The same night that makes the very trees turn white. We, those of then, are no longer the same. I no longer love her, it’s true, but how much I loved her. My voice sought the wind to touch her ear. Of others. It will come from another. Like before my kisses. Her voice, her luminous body. Her infinite eyes. I don’t love her anymore, it’s true, but maybe I do. Love is so short and oblivion is so long. Because on nights like this I had her in my arms, my soul is not satisfied with having lost her. Even if this is the last pain she causes me, and these are the last lines I write to her.”

7.A rose and Milton by Jorge Luis Borges

“Of the generations of roses lost in the depths of time, I want one to be saved from oblivion, one without mark or sign among the things that were. Fate gives me this gift of first naming that silent flower of time, the last rose that Milton brought to his face, without seeing it. Oh you red or yellow or white rose from an erased garden, magically you leave your immemorial past and in this verse shines, gold, blood or ivory or dark as in his hands, invisible rose “.

8. You want me white by Alfonsina Storni

“You want it to be dawn, you want it to be sparkling, you want it to be mother of pearl. That I am a lily Above all chaste. With a light scent. Closed corolla. Not a ray of filtered moonlight “It has never been seen. Not even a daisy can be called my sister. You want snow, you want me white, you want me dawn. You who had all the cups at hand, of fruit and honey, your purple lips. You who left their meat at the banquet covered with branches, celebrating Bacchus. You who in the black gardens of deception, dressed in red, ran to the massacre. You, who keep your skeleton intact, I still don’t know by what miracles, you claim to be white (God forgive you), you claim to be chaste (God forgive you), you claim to be the dawn! Flee to the forests, go to the mountains; wipe your mouth; live in huts; touch the wet earth with your hands; nourish the body with bitter root; drink from the rocks; sleep on the frost; renew the tissues with saltpeter and water: speak to the birds and bring them to the dawn. And when the flesh is restored to you, and when you have put into them the soul that was entangled in the bedchambers, then, good man, pretend me white, pretend me snowy, pretend me chaste.”

9. The weather by Juana de Ibarbourou

“Take me now that it is still early and that I have new dahlias in my hand. Take me now that this taciturn hair of mine is still dark. Now that I have fragrant flesh and clean eyes and rosy skin. Now that my light sole adapts to the living sandal of spring. Now that laughter rings on my lips like a hastily shaken bell. Then… ah, I know that later I won’t have any more! That then your desire will be useless, like an offering placed on a mausoleum. Take me now while it is still early and my hand is rich in tuberose! Today and not later. Before night falls and the fresh corolla becomes withered. Today and not tomorrow. O lover! can’t you see? that the climbing plant become cypress?”

10.I love you by Mario Benedetti

“Your hands are my caress my daily ropes I love you because your hands work for justice if I love you it is because you are my love my accomplice and everything and on the street side by side we are much more than two your eyes are my spell against the evil day I love you for your gaze that watches and sows future your mouth which is yours and mine your mouth does not make mistakes I love you because your mouth knows how to shout rebellion if I love you it is because you are my my love accomplice and everything and on the street side by side We are much more than two and for your sincere face and your wandering step and your crying for the world because you are a people I love you and because love is not an aura nor a frank morals and since we are a couple who knows they are not alone I love you in my paradise is to say that in my country people live happily even if they don’t have permission, if I love you it’s because you are my love, my accomplice and everything , and on the street side by side we are much more than two.”