Miguel+Hernández+Poetry


 * Miguel Hernández ** Miguel Hernández was born in Orihuela, a small town in the province of Alicante in the south-east of Spain, on 30 October 1910. As a child he read voraciously, and began to write poetry in his teens. In the early 1930's, he moved to Madrid, and by 1936 had had two books of poetry published.

In July 1936 elements of the Army staged a military coup; Civil War broke out, and soon afterwards he enlisted in the Republican Army. He became a cultural officer, and during the war years expressed the hopes and fears of the ordinary soldiers and their families in poems and newspaper articles.

When the war ended in early 1939 he attempted to return home to his wife and young son, but was soon captured and imprisoned. He was sentenced to death, but this was commuted to 30 years imprisonment. He continued writing, and his poems were smuggled out by his wife and friends when they came to visit him.

In prison his health deteriorated rapidly, but he did not receive appropriate medical care. As a result, he contracted tuberculosis and died, in prison, in March 1942.

To mark the centenary of his birth, commemorations and celebrations are being held in Orihuela, Alicante, and throughout Spain, as well as elsewhere in the world.

This website contains translations into English of some of his poems. Each translation is accompanied by the original Spanish, and there are also artists' interpretations, and audio or video recordings of readings or song versions, where available.



//Viento del pueblo, 1937 // ** Olive pickers ** // Wind of the people //   Andalusians of Jaén, proud olive pickers, tell me from your soul: who, who raised up the olive trees? They were not raised up by nothing, nor by money, nor by the master, but by the silent earth, by work and by sweat. Together with pure water and together with the planets, these three gave beauty to the twisted trunks. Rise up, silver haired olive tree, they said at the foot of the wind. And the olive tree raised a powerful hand as its foundation. Andalusians of Jaén, proud olive pickers, tell me in your soul: who suckled the olive trees? Your blood, your life, not that of the exploiter who grew rich on the generous wound of sweat. Not that of the landowner who buried you in poverty, who trod on your brow, who made you bow your head. Trees which your effort brought into the broad light of day, provided the bread eaten only by someone else. How many centuries of olives, with your feet and hands kept captive from sun to sun and moon to moon, weigh down on your bones! Andalusians of Jaén, proud olive pickers, my soul asks: to whom, to whom do these olive trees belong? Jaén, rise up bravely on your stony, moon-like land, do not be a slave along with all your olive groves. <span style="color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">Within the clarity of the oil and its aromas, <span style="color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">they proclaim your liberty <span style="color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">the liberty of your hillsides.
 * **<span style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Aceituneros **

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<span style="color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Andaluces de Jaén, a<span style="color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">ceituneros altivos, decidme en el alma: ¿quién, quién levantó los olivos?

<span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">No los levantó la nada, <span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">ni el dinero, ni el señor, sino la tierra callada, el trabajo y el sudor.

<span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Unidos al agua pura <span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">y a los planetas unidos, los tres dieron la hermosura de los troncos retorcidos.

<span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Levántate, olivo cano, <span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">dijeron al pie del viento. Y el olivo alzó una mano poderosa de cimiento.

<span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Andaluces de Jaén, <span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">aceituneros altivos, decidme en el alma: ¿quién amamantó los olivos?

<span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Vuestra sangre, vuestra vida, <span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">no la del explotador que se enriqueció en la herida generosa del sudor.

<span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">No la del terrateniente <span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">que os sepultó en la pobreza, que os pisoteó la frente, que os redujo la cabeza.

<span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Árboles que vuestro afán <span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">consagró al centro del día eran principio de un pan que sólo el otro comía.

<span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">¡Cuántos siglos de aceituna, <span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">los pies y las manos presos, sol a sol y luna a luna, pesan sobre vuestros huesos!

<span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Andaluces de Jaén, <span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">aceituneros altivos, pregunta mi alma: ¿de quién, de quién son estos olivos?

<span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Jaén, levántate brava <span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">sobre tus piedras lunares, no vayas a ser esclava con todos tus olivares.

<span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Dentro de la claridad <span style="background-color: white; color: #565555; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">del aceite y sus aromas, indican tu libertad la libertad de tus lomas.

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