East wind

Posted in 1 - Poems and Songs

Blow, blow, the north wind

Tonight it's going to snow.

What will the goldfinch do? The jilguerito, what will he do ?

He will sit in the barn and there he will warm.

In the mantle of wings his head will hide.

Poor little jilguerito!

Flying, that you are going to freeze!


East wind

Blow, East wind, that nothing moves here.

The earth is waiting to feel your joyful step.

The trees have tiptoed to see you.

Do not be late. Blow, arrives, East wind.

Listen to me. I call you desperately.

José Agustín Goytisolo

Alejandro Casona

The fog

Rolling through the mountains the mist fell to the field.

Got tangled in gorse, tousled in the poplars, caught on thorns, lay down in the pastures.

He left the whole landscape blindfolded.


Where does the white girl go tomorrow, if the snow has curdled on the mountain ?

When the white girl goes up to the mountains, in streams the snow flees from envy.

No worries, little wind, in such a hurry, because to the sound of the waters my girl sleeps.



Doing the round, the afternoon left us.

The sun has fallen; the mountain does not burn.

But the round will continue although the sun is not in the sky.

Gabriela Mistral

They fall from the sky

Silver flakes fall from the sky, moonbeams, scarlet light, water crystals, gentle winds, lead clouds, bird bands, the night falls, the shadow grows, stars are born.

When it dawns everyone admires, amazed, flowers perched on the meadows.

Lope de Vega


Icy mountains and magnificent cliffs, ancient oaks and robust pines, give way to the waters in clean streams that flow to the valleys from the cold ice. Sing nightingales and with sweet whistles their loves tell these green myrtles. Make birds with a new device for their loving young nests.


Doña Tormenta is coming; already comes with his torment, and the blacks of Cuba get stiff bangs.

In the cypress trees, the Owls.

In the pines, the owls.

In the poplars, the rooks.

On the brooms, the witches.



Everyone screams it!

Everyone speaks it!

The birds fly over the mountain.

Gloria Fuertes

All the barnacles on the rocks sing.

All the seagulls on the sea await Dona Storm with its long rain, with its black rays, with his white cape.

Silkworms die on the branches, under the Abracadabra storm.

Owls shiver under the water.

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Javi solano

You already have it, I hardly see my words that the wind does not carry them away

Javi solano

Put what is written there are things that I do not even want to repeat

Javi solano

What I said was the wind shouldn't be erased. Clears the wind in its path with so much breeze couples in love.
Well, I without memory or partner only remember a breeze that does not stop and the absence of my princess. From .I bica the air was his was a lullaby. I was just a great chapter

I'd love to hear your thoughts, please, he comments.x