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Antología poética

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Finlandesa, nacida en San Petersburgo (1892), y de lengua sueca, E. Södergran está considerada como la más importante poeta de Escandinavia, y ha sido comparada con Pound o Rilke. De intensa espiritualidad y enorme sensibilidad, la acentuación del problema de Dios la llevó a la resignación y, quizás, a su precoz final. Murió en Carelia en 1923, cuando sólo contaba 31 años.

151 pages, Paperback

Published January 1, 1992

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About the author

Edith Södergran

83 books110 followers
Edith Irene Södergran was a Swedish-speaking Finnish poet.

Södergran was born in St Petersburg in 1892. In 1907 Edith's father died from tuberculosis, and in the following year Edith was also diagnosed with the disease. She was sent to a sanatorium, but did not feel at ease there. The feelings of captivity caused by the disease and the sanatorium are a recurring theme in her poetry.

In October 1911, Edith and her mother traveled to Arosa in Switzerland where Edith was examined by different doctors. After a few months, she was transferred to the Davos-Dorf sanatorium. In May 1912, her condition had improved enough for her to return home. Eventually, the disease returned and Edith Södergran died in 1923 in her home in Raivola. She was 31 years old.

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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
Profile Image for Utskor.
88 reviews13 followers
June 25, 2025
El que, con uñas ensangrentadas,
no abre una brecha en el muro de lo cotidiano
-aunque al salir por él perezca-
no merece contemplar el sol.
Profile Image for Alejandra Dieste.
29 reviews3 followers
November 5, 2023
HERMANA DE LA VIDA

La vida se parece sobre todo a su hermana la muerte.
La muerte no difiere de ella,
se la puede acariciar, coger su mano, alisar su pelo,
y ella te tenderá una flor, te sonreirá.
Se puede hundir el rostro en su pecho
y oírla decir: Ya es hora de irnos.
No te dirá que es otra.
La muerte no yace, el rostro verdiblanco, contra la tierra,
o de espaldas en un blanco ataúd:
la muerte va con rosadas mejillas, hablando con todos.
La muerte tiene rasgos tenues y pías mejillas,
pone su mano suave sobre tu corazón,
y al que siente su mano suave sobre su corazón
ya el sol no le calienta:
queda frío como el hielo, y deja de amar.


Lo último que les leí a mi padre y a mi perra.

Gracias Chus Visor y al increíble Jesús Pardo por regalarnos este tesoro en español.
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