Poems of the Mothers

Gabriela Mistral

Conservative + traditional Liberal + artistic
Impulsive + spontaneous Organized + hard working
Contemplative Engaged w/ outside
Competitive Team working + trusting
Laid back + relaxed Easily stressed + emotional

Excerpt from Poemas de las madres , read the full text

I was kissed
I was kissed, and I am othered: another, because of the pulse that echoes the
pulse in my veins; another, because of the breath I feel within my breath.
My belly, now, is as noble as my heart . . .
And now I feel in my own breathing an exhalation of flowers: all because
of the one who rests inside me gently, as the dew on the grass!

What Will He Be Like?
What will he be like? I gazed for a long time at the petals of a rose, and I
touched them delightedly: I would want that softness for his cheeks. And I
played in a tangle of brambles, because I would want his hair to be like that,
dark and curling. But it won’t matter if it is bronze colored, with the rich color
of red clay that potters love, or if his smooth hair is as simple as my whole life.
I watch the hollows in the mountains as they fill with fog, and I sketch
with the fog the silhouette of a girl, a very sweet little girl: my child could
be like that too…
But, above all, I want that face to share the sweetness he has in his face,
and that voice to share the timbre of his voice when he speaks to me: for in
the one who is to come, I want to love the one who kissed me.

Wisdom
Now I understand why for these twenty summers I have felt the sunshine
on me and why I was given to gathering flowers in the fields. Why, I’d ask
myself on the most beautiful days, this wonderful gift of the warm sun and
the fresh grass?
As if I were a cluster of blue-tinged grapes, the light passed through me
for the sweetness I might yield. This that is making itself in the depths of me,
drop by drop, from my veins: this was my wine.
For this I prayed, the name of God passing through my human clay, with which it would be made. And when with a fluttering pulse I’d read a poem, I’d be scorched by its beauty, that he could absorb his inextinguishable warmth from my flesh.

Poemas de las madres

Gabriela Mistral

Conservador + tradicional Liberal + artístico
Impulsivo + espontáneo Organizado + trabajador
Contemplativo Comprometido con el exterior
Competitivo Trabajo en equipo + confianza
Relajado + relajado Fácilmente estresado + emocional

Excerpt from Poemas de las madres , read the full text

Me ha besado
Me ha besado y yo soy otra: otra, por el latido que duplica el de mis venas;
otra, por el aliento que se percibe entre mi aliento.
Mi vientre ya es noble como mi corazón…
Y hasta encuentro en mi halito una exhalación de flores: ¡todo por aquel
que descansa en mis entrañas blandamente, como el rocío sobre la hierba!

¿Cómo será?
¿Cómo será? Yo he mirado largamente los pétalos de una rosa, y los palpe con delectación: querría esa suavidad para sus mejillas. Y he jugado en un
enredo de zarzas, porque me gustarían sus cabellos así, oscuros y retorcidos.
Pero no importa si es tostado, con ese rico color de las gredas rojas que aman
los alfareros, y si sus cabellos lisos tienen la simplicidad de mi vida entera.
Miro las quiebras de las sierras, cuando se van poblando de niebla, y hago
con la niebla una silueta de niña, de niña dulcísima: que pudiera ser eso también.
Pero, por sobre todo, yo quiero que mire con el dulzor que él tiene en la
mirada, y que tenga el temblor leve de su voz cuando me habla, pues en el
que viene quiero amar a aquel que me besara.