Seventy balconies and no a flower

Seventy balconies are in this house
seventy balconies and no a flower…
To their habitants, lord, what happens,
They hate the perfume, they hate the color?


The naked stone of sadness
give a sad the black balconies…
Is there not in this house a child bride
Is there not any poet full of illusions?

No one want to see behind the glasses
a tiny garden copy?
In the white stone climb roses,
in the black irons open a jasmine?

If they don’t love the plants, they won’t love the bird
they won’t know music, rhymes, love…
It never will hear a kiss, it never will hear a key
¡Seventy balconies and no a flower!

Baldomero Fernandez Moreno (1886 − 1950) -“Ciudad” - Buenos Aires- 1917

An Argentinian poet and rural doctor. His poetry universal and deeply national at the same time, has immortalized the esthetics of the neighborhoods of Buenos Aires.
A plain lyric, realistic without pathetic or metaphorical delight, that was called Sencillismo

This is a poem from my childhood I love it the first time I read it!

2 Notes/ Hide

  1. iknowinterpolisallweneed posted this