I Cultivate a White Rose By Jose MartiI cultivate a white rose In July as in January For the sincere friend Who gives me his hand frankly.And for the cruel person who tears out the heart with which I live, I cultivate neither nettles nor thorns: I cultivate a white rose.I enjoy this poem because I think this is what we all strive to be! We strive to be the best we can be to everyone even those who sometimes make life more difficult. The color white represent purity and the rose represents beauty. We must be willing to turn the other cheek when we are done wrong to and try to see beauty even in those who seem to lack it. Marti does not put it this nice but his symbolism are enough to express an anti-revenge attitude.
Another Great Poem By Jose Marti
A Sincere Man Am I (Verse I) By Jose Marti
A sincere man am I From the land where palm trees grow, And I want before I die My soul's verses to bestow. I'm a traveller to all parts, And a newcomer to none: I am art among the arts, With the mountains I am one. I know how to name and class All the strange flowers that grow; I know every blade of grass, Fatal lie and sublime woe. I have seen through dead of night Upon my head softly fall, Rays formed of the purest light From beauty celestial. I have seen wings that were surging From beautiful women's shoulders, And seen butterflies emerging From the refuse heap that moulders. I have known a man to live With a dagger at his side, And never once the name give Of she by whose hand he died. Twice, for an instant, did I My soul's reflection espy: Twice: when my poor father died And when she bade me good-bye. I trembled once, when I flung The vineyard gate, and to my dread, The wicked hornet had stung My little girl on the forehead. I rejoiced once and felt lucky The day that my jailer came To read the death warrant to me That bore his tears and my name. I hear a sigh across the earth, I hear a sigh over the deep: It is no sign reaching my hearth, But my son waking from sleep. If they say I have obtained The pick of the jeweller's trove, A good friend is what I've gained And I have put aside love. I have seen across the skies A wounded eagle still flying; I know the cubby where lies The snake of its venom dying. I know that the world is weak And must soon fall to the ground, Then the gentle brook will speak Above the quiet profound. While trembling with joy and dread, I have touched with hand so bold A once-bright star that fell dead From heaven at my threshold. On my brave heart is engraved The sorrow hidden from all eyes: The son of a land enslaved, Lives for it, suffers and dies. All is beautiful and right, All is as music and reason; And all, like diamonds, is light That was coal before its season. I know when fools are laid to rest Honor and tears will abound, And that of all fruits, the best Is left to rot in holy ground. Without a word, the pompous muse I've set aside, and understood: From a withered branch, I choose To hang my doctoral hood.
This poem really enhance Cuba. It has Cuba written all over it (where palm trees grow...) He talks about his own experiences, after all these
are his verses. There is so much detail yet so much you have to pick outand detect from this poem. It is very difficult to understand every
detail, rather than as a whole. It is worth depicting and very well