Roses and Poem Card

My memory is not what it was. At dawn mass I did not say Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi, but I said Marta Dei (she is also lamb of God that takes away my sins from the world). The Night could not understand it, and what to tell him, and how, so that he would understand it. José Hierro del Real. (Madrid, April 3, 1922-December 21, 2002). Spanish poet, art critic and academic at the Royal Academy of Language. His family moved to Santander when he was a child and there he studied as an industrial expert, which he had to interrupt in 1936. His first poem, Una bala le ha matado, was published in 1937. At the end of the Civil War he was arrested and prosecuted. He remained in prison until 1944 and there he began to take a systematic interest in literature, with various events he experienced during the war already appearing in his first writings. When he was released from prison he moved to Valencia, where he dedicated himself to writing, collaborated on a mythological dictionary and, together with José Luis Hidalgo, participated in the founding of the magazine Corcel. In 1944 he made the first pictorial criticism of the work of Modesto Ciruelos. During the 40s he returned to Santander and, in addition to working in different jobs, he collaborated in the Chamber of Commerce magazine, where he wrote about economics and about the illustrious men of Cantabrian industry. In 1946 he joined the innovative group "Proel", editor of the poetic magazine of the same name in which he published his first book of poems, Tierra sin nosotros, in 1947. Lope. The night. Martha “I have opened the window. Enter without making noise (he leaves his constellations outside). "Good night, Night." Turn the shadow pages in which everything is already written. He comes to ask me for an account. "I left at dawn," I say. The sun licked the leprous walls. "It smelled of wine, of honey, of cistus." (Dazzled by so much clarity you have narrowed your eyes). My words carry her through streets, embers, I don't know: Hear the silver of the chimes. Before the church door I shut up, I stop – he would come in with me if I didn't shut up, if I didn't stop -; I know well what the Night wants; what happens every night; If not, why would he have come? My memory is not what it was. At dawn mass I did not say Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi, but I said Marta Dei (she is also lamb of God that takes away my sins from the world). The Night could not understand it, and what to tell him, and how, so that he would understand it. Jose Hierro <!-- Default Statcounter code for https://www.zazzle.co.uk/mbr/238 http://aracelident.com --> <script type="text/javascript"> var sc_project=12098388; var sc_invisible=0; var sc_security="578f2581"; var sc_https=1; var scJsHost = "https://"; document.write("<sc"+"ript type='text/javascript' src='" + scJsHost+ "statcounter.com/counter/counter.js'></"+"script>"); </script> <noscript><div class="statcounter"><a title="Web Analytics" href="https://statcounter.com/" target="_blank"><img