USEFUL POEMS FOR RECITING

My Robbery Celia Muñoz Escobar

She wanted a doll and asked me for it while crying

I was very poor, Your Honor, without a single cent.
The girl fell ill with sorrow at seeing her wish unfulfilled.
and my heart bled from the shattered pain
The day of the kings was approaching and she was kneeling, imploring.
in his bed of misery thus he exclaimed to the wizards
Dear kings of heaven, may mom have pennies
I want the little doll with golden hair.
She'll buy it for me, mommy, as soon as she has a job.
The doors were closed on me, work had scarce.
and the little I earned was to feed us
How much does a doll with golden curls cost?
that opens and closes its little eyes like the one I have dreamed of?
They say that good girls are heard by the Three Wise Men.
You will have it, my little daughter, I replied crying.
and without further ado, I went out to get the gift
I went to my employers' house to ask for an advance.
for my services but they denied me
And wandering down the street, I kept myself entertained for a long time.

and I arrived at a shop window surrounded by many people

where the most prized toys were displayed
and smiling at my misery the doll with clear eyes
it marked with large figures twenty pesos and cents.
I don't know what happened afterwards, I only know that I ran hastily.
where was my charm red as a poppy
with fever delirious how happy my little one was
when she received her gift, she kissed enchanted
her doll with light-colored eyes. and so they remained....
with her little eyes closed, my flesh doll
and the one with golden curls and the next morning
only the eyes of the doll woke up
my daughter’s closed forever and in life
They left me alone and sad! What object do I have to keep?
Such a bitter memory? Mr. Judge, I was a thief!
I come to pay for my sin, give me the penalty you want.
and here is what I have stolen if my treasure is already gone
this is too much for me, give it to its owner
that I will not need it.

THE FALL OF THE LEAVES

Happy marriage! They look blissful.

running through the garden with his two children,
their childhood laughter is of silver
and her curls are made of gold
that fly agitated through the air.

They rest, then a provocative shout.

and the game resumes
with more enthusiasm and more determination.
Sometimes one falls into the arms of the other.
How much the two children love each other!

She is fresh, sturdy, and stocky,

he is somewhat pale and scraggly,
but both are the same in loving each other,
equal in their eternal rejoicing,
equal in goodness and beauty,
equal in spirit.

One morning, when both were happily running around,

they were surprised by a strange visit,
he was a distant uncle, a doctor of great fame,
for he was attentive to the call of the father,
because they woke him up with startles,
the delicate complexion of the child.

The doctor takes him in his arms,

examines it, listens to it
and his cheeks kissing with tenderness
authorizes him to continue the interrupted game.

They played at hiding,

the little sister had made her hideout in the bedroom
and while her little brother looked for her,
she listened to the uncle's forecast.

Bitter is the truth

and it hurts me to have to say it,
but it is precise,
this sweet warmth of spring
defends its organism,
the scent of flowers does him good
and from the foliage the oxygen,
Ah! but at the fall of the leaves
when those limes
the path is carpeted with dry leaves,
have resignation, the child will die!

The jubilant spring has passed,

the fruitful and hot summer passed,
to the first autumn gusts
that sickly being
he proved that the doctor was not mistaken,
he was losing the enthusiasm to play,
showing discouragement,
at meal times his appetite was null,
and a sad morning
he did not want to leave his bed.

Parents spend long hours

contemplating his pale little sick one,
what is the being of your being,
what is all of his soul.
All? And the girl?

The other loved one

who passionately adores the sweet brother,
What is of her girl soul, the most intimate?

Both asked themselves this memory.

Where is the girl? Where has she gone?
that does not respond to the voices of the sick
that she misses him and almost calls out to him?

The mother goes in search of her.

and finds her wandering in the garden
under the linden trees,
a ladder rests against the trunks,
and with a downcast face, but with a firm step
up and down from her,
she holds a thread in her right hand and a needle
and with solicitous eagerness, he/she goes threading the leaves
that from autumn to the kiss they have fallen,
and they are threaded again into the branches.

Since dawn, overcoming the cold,

he devoted himself to his work,
the gardener who was amazed to see her,
nothing he said,
but the mother, upon seeing him, asks:
What is my dear doing?
and the distressed girl replies to him:
Oh, what my uncle once said,
the fall of the leaves is starting now..
help me mom, I ask you,
so that the road is not carpeted with leaves
so that my little brother does not die.

The Matricide

On the gray bench, of the accused,

There is a man with a lost look.
and seeing their saddened face
the heart feels sorrowful.

Sunk between the hands, the head

and immersed in the sea of his sobs
before the brutal law and the curious
they are mocking his sadness.

Serious and calm the judge; brow furrowed

impassive stands at the podium
however on the face of the magistrate,
a sorrow is never tamed.

The turn is of the prosecutor; with a voice like thunder

in the face of the blinded hostile mob of hatred
launches its accusation loaded with ice
what does the snake use to launch its venom.

There you have it, gentlemen, it's the beast!

the gutless man the cunning one
the most despicable being, the murderer!
that deprives life without hassle.

He's a jackal! wicked and gruesome,

a ruthless being ¡a matricide!
who with its claws tore away life
of the woman who provided him with sustenance.

From the woman who watched over him as a child,

of the woman who forged it in her blood,
of that woman who, like any mother
she rocked him once in her bodice.
And how did he pay her? What a cruel crime!
what unparalleled injustice... what cowardice
to tear away life in an unholy way
Gentlemen, this being is a damn!

He is a jackal and condemning him to fate

may the law be fulfilled in you
and if God forgives his sin
May justice condemn him to death!

The prosecutor fell silent; the enraged mob

with a fierce roar he shouted at that moment
Die, die; but first to torment!
May the despicable matricide die!

Finally, the judge speaks from his podium.

imposing silence on the noise made
and it says: every being has the right
let the accused speak about the matter.

Eyes swollen from crying

the wrinkled face… hirsute the head
I have never seen such fatal sadness,
I have never seen so much suffering.

... I am the murderer, I killed her!

and I swear before God... I do not regret it!
if for this they inflict cruel torment on me
For his happiness, I consider it well spent.

Those who say it with malice lie more.

I killed my mother, the common folk lie!
I killed her without the slightest pain
I killed it with love, and that way it doesn't harm.

I killed her with tenderness, gently

... his troubled existence was extinguished.
what a light butterfly flutter
and left life… sweetly.

She died sweetly, how much I loved her!

it's difficult to measure what love is
I killed the one who rocked me when I was a child.
however it is love; because I did it.

How many of the human hypocrites

to whom I begged for help
Today I am mocked with terrible doubt
And they still pretend to be Christians!

How my mother suffered, poor thing!

with excruciating pain in the chest
pleading to God from his bed
suffering from that cursed disease!

I will never forget that night!

in which, screaming in pain, he told me
Kill me out of pity, kill me son!
and do not expect from my soul even a reproach.

I bless your hand, son of my soul,

Kill me already!... and give me burial
I well know that my ailment has no remedy,
Kill me out of pity!... give me peace.

And that wild and pitiful cry,

that longed for death pleadingly
it was drilling into my soul at every moment
Kill me, son! My God, why won't I die?

And the light of my consciousness was obscured,

and I stopped being a son… I became an executioner!

and I tore the yoke from suffering

I took away, gentlemen, the existence!

The rest you already know; what torture

I can no longer bear the weight of the pain!
and here I am before you imprisoned
And my only passion is the burial.

But it is not the law that should judge me,

although I am guilty of euthanasia
They are not going to laugh at my misfortune
They won't do it! Because I'm going to kill myself!

A dagger was drawn from the waist

which pierced violently into the chest
to heaven he pleaded, "Lord... mercy!"
and the bitterness faded from her face.

And so the agitated existence comes to an end

of a man who is a MURDERER out of love!
and leave in the annals of life
A story of love written with blood!

BEFORE THE TOMB OF A MASTER (Fidencio Escamilla Cervantes)

Master, listen to my words for a moment,

Put aside the gizzard that makes you giant,
Close the book with which you speak to us.
And listen, master:
These hands, which were once vain,
They knew nothing of schools, they knew nothing of classrooms,
They knew nothing, they were just human.
That developed only through reflections.

Counting in bits, adding the fingers.

Ah, my poor hands that suffered so much
before your stay, dear teacher!
When there wasn't a single school in the village.
And you came, to teach the thirsty
We lived hungry for science,
You gave us your mind, your knowledge,
And we fight together, at the same time.

And the dark night that was once eternal,

It became morning, laughter, spring;
You performed the miracle, you lit the bonfire
What enlightens man in his arduous task.
How can I thank you dear teacher
all these years your thousands of efforts?
Your vast tenderness, your sleepless days,
Your noble patience, your wise advice.

I lack words, I have plenty of breath

To dedicate you a beautiful memory
Let it be in my heart and in my thoughts,
May it guide me in life at all times.
Now you are here in front of me, in silence,
Perhaps contemplating that times change
As science advances, so do its secrets,
That we ourselves are growing.

But you are here, just here and say nothing;

Your voice that in the world is a sacred ode,
It has remained succinct, calm, quiet,
without asking for applause, glory, or fame.
Only an epitaph remembers your name,
A lonely grave and a poorer cross,
A meager memory of those minors
That under your hands today they became men.

What sadness, teacher, captures my soul

Seeing this grave surrounded by calm,
But alone, without the voices of children calling you out loud;
The soulless towns no longer call for you.
How ungrateful is the payment of the human species,
From all the peoples and in all the races;
Today they cheer for you if you are needed,
Tomorrow, if you die, no one will miss you anymore.

Where are the parents of the children? The ones you guided!
Those who drank water from your knowledge until they were satisfied,
To those whom you rescued from ignorance;
They have not been able or they have not wanted to remember you.
You gave your life, without rewards, or honors,
You ended up as nothing, ignored and poor,
Covered in soil, that your body absorbs.

Only a wilted flower is the offering.

And a forgotten and worn-out cross,
for so much tribute that the land collected,
What a small triumph the school obtained!
Here you are, master, surrounded by oblivion,
Venero of science that lies stretched out,
What radiant lighthouse they would have destroyed;
Hero without a medal, sleeping giant.

Where are those you guided? I ask!

Scream without response, they have remained silent,
The impassive faces, the emaciated bodies;
Not a single sentence is heard in the world.
And your voice, that voice that traveled through the mountains,

The coast and the forest like a war cry,

Impregnated in the winds, becoming eternal,
Bringing the message of all science.

That voice, maestro, that nobody remembers,

It stays with you, when you die you take it with you.
But when someone shouts:
Where is the MASTER? Hero without a flag!
With immense pride and a serene voice:
I have it in my spirit _The School will tell us!
I have it in my bosom! The earth will shout!

FORGIVE ME SCIENCE (Claudio Martínez Paiva)

I am all alone in my ranch. But the path that goes to that ranch
I am alone in my house, It's very bad and it's going to ruin me.
The dogs are barking outside car.
As if they were seeing ghosts The doctor wasn't coming... the doctor wasn't coming.
And they illuminate my thoughts Not because the path that goes to was bad
Bad light candles my ranch
Crow's feather of black birds If not, it's because I didn't have anything to pay him.
They put mourning on my soul. science.
Seven leagues, seven leagues of distance
And the feeling is so great There I understood, then.
What I carry inside my soul That science is not so scientific.
That things do not say it, When one is not aware.
Words cannot explain it.
Because on those same roads
He was eight years old... eight years old Where many doctors do not go,
The poor little child of my soul Death gallops across
He woke up one morning And misfortune comes and goes!
With burning eyes
And the little body is on fire. He ordered me to buy him
Passing by the pharmacy
I'm dying, nana, he said. A jar of lemonade
I'm dying grandpa, he was shouting And I would bring my sick one.
I feel a thirst for martyrdom When the fever passes.
I feel a fire that embraces me.
I returned to my ranch.
I kissed the puppy on the forehead Just like any father would return
And I left it on the bed Under the same circumstances
And I flew, I flew on my horse, seven leagues, The heart on the lips
Seven leagues away And the sadness in the soul
Seven pointed daggers
Stuck in my throat The fever lasted a little while.
And the cry of my son inside, The fever lasted a little while.
Water grandmother, water grandfather. And a morning slipped away from me

Among the singing of brambles

I explained the case to the doctor. And the soft lightening of dawn.
And she settled into her armchair
I look at myself from head to toe I was hugging my son, kissing him.
And he told me: That's how I lost my son.
Thus my little son died
Sir, I am very sorry! With the forehead, very cold
And I without voice or money The only money of the poor
Standing next to my house. It is of no use to him/her at all.
And I meditate on my revenge
So... so the earth awaits it And that's why I shout to the world
With hands on the chest Let science forgive me,
Coining my misfortune Don't blame me if tomorrow,
Without life, your little body They shout at me that I am a bandit.
Rest from the fever now. Or a bad man without guts,
I was born a bull and they make me a puma

I am all alone in my ranch I am a lamb and they put claws on me.

I have been left alone in my house,
the dogs are barking outside God! God! Almighty
As if they were seeing ghosts until dawn breaks
And they illuminate my thoughts and it tears from my chest
Bad light lanterns, this scream, this scream that kills me:
And at the stroke of midnight water nana, water.. water tata
My silver-handled knife
.
The Doll The tempting doll.
by Vital Aza
Gentleman, a donation
On a winter night This poor little orphan,
A beggar girl Get out of the way, I'm in a hurry!
With almost bare feet Oh God, sir, even if it's just a penny.
And the stiff little hands, I'm hungry...
Covering like a cloak Poor girl! You make me feel sorry for you! Here!
With her skirt the head, but sir, he is a tough one!
And without fear of the rain It doesn't matter, I'll give it to you so you have it.
That increases more and more, this Christmas good bed and good dinner!
Contemplates ecstatically and sadly Allow me to kiss your hand!
The interior of a shop, remove girl,
That for their enjoyment in toys a tough one, I am happy, It will not be false!
It is the first of all. right?
How girl, do you think?
What are you doing there? He asks her in a voice. No sir, please forgive me!
bland and dry a clerk, But come on, the surprise...
pushing the girl onto the sidewalk, If I go crazy from joy!
let me be, I was just looking at that May God reward him in the world.
doll And give him eternal glory
Ah, yes, leave soon and free up the
door. And squeezing between his hands
Tell me... is it very expensive? The coin is convulsive,
Do you want to leave, girl? He ran down the streets
It will be very expensive, right? Fast as an arrow.
If only I could! The Another day it was commented on in the press
demons with the girl The fact of having found
Well, she can't buy it. On the threshold of a door,
Get lost and go beg for alms! The body of a girl
The doll you like costs a dime, Hugging a doll.
With whom!
The poor thing has left.
Hiding her sadness.
He begs for alms in vain,
No one listens to their complaints
And faint and sad,
Cross streets and squares
Remembering in his bitterness