The poems of the Renaissance are the written testimony of the cultural flashes of an era that transformed the paradigms of society.
The Renaissance was a time of great artistic and cultural transformation, where reason went from being situated in metaphysical spaces to delving into the human being, which is why it is considered a bridge of transition between the Middle Ages and the Modern Age..
At this time the scientific, ethical, religious, philosophical, and of course artistic postulates were revolutionized from different levels. This is why the poems of the Renaissance made a special place within universal literature, sharing a place of honor with poems from other times such as poems from the Baroque or Romanticism.
The Renaissance is a cultural movement that draws on the ideas of humanism and was born in Europe between the 15th and 16th centuries..
Regarding this time, we can not only speak of poems of the Renaissance, but it is also necessary to say that other arts such as music, sculpture and painting, were fed by the spirit of the time to leave an artistic testimony of the particularities of this historical cycle. In fact, it should be noted that the works of the Renaissance are some of the most important in art of all times..
The Renaissance, like all cultural movements, stands out for having established characteristics that determine the affiliation of a work of art to this type of current. In the poems of the Renaissance you will be able to observe features such as:
These are roughly the characteristics of the time, now is the time for you to enjoy reading some of the best poems of the Renaissance.
Below you will be able to delight yourself with some of the Renaissance poems that have stolen the hearts of readers of all times.
Here I share my personal selection of Renaissance poems with brief interpretative or technical comments that serve as a beacon to explore your own emotions and ideas in front of this beautiful poetic display..
Without further ado, let's get to the point and I hope you enjoy the best poems of the Renaissance.
Sad eyes, as long as I take you
to the face of whom death gives you and torments
I beg you to pay attention
that in my evil challenges you Aleve love.
Death is only who my thought
can close the path that trains him
to the sweet port that heals their ills;
instead your fire is hidden from you
with smaller and poorer handicap,
for you are made of lighter essence.
And for that reason, it is already close,
before crying you find the time
take at last now
to so long martyrdom brief relief.
Existence itself has multiple episodes of anguish that put the human being in crisis, causing him to believe that death is the only remedy for torment. These exalted ideas are typical of poetry that tries to imprison pain to make it plausible.
Overcome by the years, in the sweet warmth
of the home and the light, albos flakes spinning,
you will say my verses enraptured remembering:
Ronsard sang the days of my happy beauty.
There will no longer be anyone who picks up sadness from your voice,
nor sleepy slave than to perceive the soft
rumor in which you name me, happy waking up
with fervent loanza bless your royalty.
My body underground, just my soul
Yagará of your shady myrtles in the calm,
while you, close to the fire, you take shelter cold.
And then you have to cry that insane haughtiness ...
Do not refuse, listen to me, do not wait for tomorrow:
gird yourself from now on the roses of life.
Many of the Renaissance poems they have a special preoccupation with the use of forms. This is the time when the Sonnet shines in all its splendor and that is why it is widely used by the poets of the time..
Here envy and lies
they had me locked up.
Blessed is the humble state
of the wise man who retires
of this wicked world,
and with poor table and house,
in the delightful field
with only God compassion,
and alone his life passes,
neither envied nor envious.
Sometimes loneliness seems to be the only resource to escape the constant friction produced by human relationships. The hermit is one who prefers to observe life from the heights of his own soul.
O flame of love alive
how tenderly you hurt
of my soul in the deepest center!
Well, you are no longer elusive
finish now if you want,
Break the fabric of this sweet encounter!
O cautery süave!
O gifted sore!
O soft hand! O delicate touch
that eternal life tastes
and all debt pays!
killing, death in life you have bartered.
O lamps of fire
in whose glows
the deep caverns of sense,
that it was dark and blind,
with strange beauties
color and light give next to their beloved!
How gentle and loving
do you remember in my bosom
where you only secretly dwell,
and in your tasty breath
of good and full glory,
how delicately you make me fall in love.
Love is the living fire, the fire that is not extinguished and has the gift of taking people to their brightest side, or to their most terrible darkness..
Oh sweet garments, misfound by me,
sweet and happy when God wanted!
Together you are in my memory,
and with her in my death conjured.
Who told me, when in the past
hours as much good for you I via,
that you were to be me one day
with such serious pain represented?
Well, in an hour together you took me
all the good that by terms you gave me,
take me together the evil that you left me.
If not, I will suspect that you put me
in so many goods because you wanted
see me die between sad memories.
Letting go of what we love is a resounding challenge and the greatest test of detachment as a token of love. However, as we free ourselves from the desire for possession in the face of what is no longer there, it seems that pain is the price we pay for the good times..
In the garden the rose is born:
I want to go there,
for looking at the nightingale
how he sang.
By the banks of the river
lemons take the virgo:
I want to go there,
for looking at the nightingale
how he sang.
Lemons took the virgo
to give your friend:
I want to go there,
to see the nightingale
how he sang.
To give to his friend
in a sirgo hat:
I want to go there,
to see the nightingale
how he sang.
So far you may think that we shared the poems without checking their spelling. However, it is worth noting that we publish the Renaissance poems as they were written. What happens here is that what you consider today an error, was the use of the language of the time that little by little has been transformed because languages are mobile elements.
Oh lofty hills, holy ruin,
that only from Rome the name remains,
poor spoil in you now it stays
of so much exalted and pilgrim glory.
Colossus, arch, theater, divine play,
triumphal pomp that in vain another mimics,
ash your glory only inherits
that a vile fable at last inclines the vulgar.
So while a time to time war
does the famous work, slowly
work and envious name time buries.
I will live in my martyrdom, then, content;
that if the end of everything on earth,
maybe I can still end my torment.
This sonnet alludes to the Great Fire of Rome and how the reconstruction of both the architectural and the cultural values, seem to be just a mockery erected on the ashes of a brilliant time for civilization.
A wave
she is never alone,
it is mixed with
the other waves.
The human being can only develop himself in relation to all others. If we are a drop, the gathering of its drops forms the great ocean of humanity. We are all one, we are all one.
The boldest paintings, the most daring descriptions, the most extraordinary situations, the most appalling maxims, the most energetic brushstrokes have the sole object of obtaining one of the most sublime lessons in morals that man has ever received..
The Marquis de Sade was mainly recognized for challenging the moral values of the time. This peculiar writer considered that art was the only true one towards the human spirit.
Your gesture is written in my soul,
and how much I want to write about you;
you wrote it by yourself, I read it
so alone, that even of you I keep myself in this.
In this I am and will always be;
that although it doesn't fit in me how much I see in you,
of so much good what I don't understand I think,
taking faith as a budget.
I was not born except to love you;
my soul has cut you to its size;
out of habit of the soul itself I love you.
When I have I confess I owe you;
I was born for you, for you I have life,
for you I have to die, and for you I die.
Absolute surrender is a particularity of romantic love that seeks to consume itself in the loved one. Dying of love is perhaps one of the most touched topics within the Renaissance poems, because according to the values of the time, the most sublime offering was to give one's life for love.
Agora with the dawn rises
my light; agora catches in rich knot
the beautiful hair; now the crude
girdle chest with gold and throat;
now, back to heaven, pure and holy,
the hands and beautiful eyes raised, and could
hurt now from my acute illness;
incomparable agora tolls and sings.
So I say and of the sweet error carried
present before my eyes I imagine her
and full of humility and love I adore her;
but later the deceived returns to himself
courage and, knowing the folly,
the long free rein to cry.
Impossible loves are usually one of the most common reasons for sadness. The pain resulting from this type of love is not comparable to another, because in this we believe that life loses meaning if we cannot access the claims of our love.
As you see, the Renaissance poems they are odes to different states of human existence. The exploration of human emotions is typical of poetry and through it we can glimpse the concerns and ways of seeing the world of the men and women of an era.
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