Do you need love poems to impress your partner with? Romantic poems have been, for centuries, the main leitmotif of many writers, poets, and artists.
A love poem should have the ability to tell in a unique way those feelings, emotions and images that come to mind when we talk about how special a person feels.
24 great love poems
If emotions are running high and you need to get the message across to a person you love, we propose fifteen great love poems from different times and authors. With them you will be able to explore your romantic side and share these good feelings with whomever you wish.
Without further ado, let’s get to know the romantic verses. At the end of each one of them you have a brief explanation of its context and meaning.
Welcome, by Mario Benedetti
It occurs to me that you will arrive differently
not exactly prettier
no more docile
no more cautious
just that you’re going to come in different
as if this season of not seeing me
would have surprised you too
maybe because you know
how I think and list you
after all nostalgia exists
even if we don’t cry on the ghostly platforms
nor on the pillows of candor
nor under the opaque sky
and how it bums me out that he’s nostalgic
your face is the vanguard
maybe it comes first
because I paint it on the walls
with invisible and secure lines
don’t forget that your face
looks at me as a people
smile and anger and sing
as a people
and that gives you a fire
now I have no doubt
you’ll arrive differently and with signs
I know I’ll love you no questions asked
I know you’re gonna love me without answers.
- Analysis of the poem : these are ideal verses to dedicate during a reunion with the person you love, when you realise the great emotional connection that exists and that not even the distance has been able to diminish.
Eternal Love, by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer
The sun may be cloudy forever;
The sea can dry up in an instant;
The earth’s axis may be broken
Like a weak crystal.
it will all happen! May death
Cover me with his funeral crepe;
But never in me can it be turned off
The flame of your love.
- Analysis of the poem : an ode to unconditional love, devoid of any circumstances. An expression of romantic love at its highest level.
My Slave, by Pablo Neruda
My slave, fear me. Love me. My slave!
I am with you the widest sunset in my sky,
and in it my soul shines like a cold star.
When they walk away from you, my steps return to me.
My own whiplash falls on my life.
You’re what’s inside me and it’s far away.
Running away like a chorus of chased mists.
Next to me, but where? Far away, what’s far away.
And what lies far beneath my feet walks.
The echo of the voice beyond the silence.
And what in my soul grows like moss on the ruins.
- Analysis of the poem : the Chilean poet, in a display of eroticism and sensitivity, exposes us to a love in which affection and fear go hand in hand.
If you love me, love me whole. by Dulce María Loynaz
If you love me, love me whole,
not by areas of light or shadow…
If you love me, love me black
With You, by Luis Cernuda
My land is you.
My people are you.
Exile and death
for me they’re where
What about my life?
Tell me, my life,
what is it, if not you?
- Analysis of the poem : this Spanish poet spoke thus about his world, based on the love for that special person.
Farewell, by Jorge Luis Borges
Between me and my love they must rise
three hundred nights as three hundred walls
and the sea will be a magic between us.
There will be nothing but memories.
Oh worthwhile afternoons,
nights of hope to look at you,
fields of my path, firmament
that I’m watching and losing…
Definitive as a marble
will sadden your absence for other evenings.
- Analysis of the poem : saying goodbye is never easy, and even less so if you have to say goodbye to a person you have loved with passion. However, this poem by Jorge Luis Borges is absolutely beautiful.
Agua Mujer, by Juan Ramón Jiménez
What did you copy in you,
that when I’m missing
the image of the summit,
I run to look at me in you?
- Analysis of the poem : brief but colossal poem by Juan Ramón Jiménez. Sometimes love is based on looking in the mirror. We see ourselves reflected in the eyes of the loved one.
Give me your hand, by Gabriela Mistral
Give me your hand and we’ll dance;
give me your hand and you’ll love me.
As one flower we shall be,
like a flower, and nothing else…
The same verse we will sing,
at the same pace you will dance.
Like a spike we will undulate,
like a spike, and nothing else.
Your name is Rosa and I am Esperanza;
but your name you will forget,
because we will be a dance.
- Analysis of the poem : verses of the Chilean poet. An ode to optimism and the most innocent love.
Soneto V, by Garcilaso de la Vega
It is written in my soul your gesture…
It is written in my soul your gesture
and how much I write of you I desire;
you wrote it yourself, I read it
I’m just, I’m still keeping it from you.
This I am and will always be;
that although it does not fit in me as much as in you I see,
of so much good that I don’t understand I think,
already taking faith for granted.
I was not born but to love you;
my soul has cut you down to its measure;
by the habit of the soul itself I love you;
as much as I have confessed to you;
for you I was born, for you I have life,
for you I must die and for you I die.
- Analysis of the poem : one of those lifelong love poems, which tells us about a raw, mystical infatuation, outside any circumstance or condition.
Powder of Love, by Francisco de Quevedo
Last love beyond death.
Closing my eyes will make me close my last one
Shadow I’ll take the white day,
And he can unleash this soul of mine
Hour, to his eager flatterer;
But not that part on the bank
It will leave the memory, where it burned:
Swimming knows my flame cold water,
And lose respect for harsh law.
Soul, to whom a whole God has been imprisoned,
Veins, what humor to so much fire have given,
Marrows, which have gloriously burned,
Your body will leave, not your care;
They will be ashes
Woman, I would have been your son, for drinking you
milk from the breasts like from a spring,
for looking and feeling you next to me and having you
in the golden laugh and the crystal voice.
For feeling you in my veins like God in the rivers
and worship you in the sad bones of dust and lime,
because your being will pass without pity beside me
and it was in the stanza – clean of all evil.
How would I know how to love you, woman, how would I know
to love you, to love you like nobody ever knew!
To die and still
to love you more.
love you more
- Analysis of the poem : a romantic recognition of the figure of woman, by one of the most emblematic poets of Latin America.
I love you by the eyebrow, by Julio Cortázar
I love you by the eyebrow, by the hair, I debate you in corridors
very white where the fountains are played
I argue with you on every name, I gently tear you away
I’m putting lightning ashes in your hair and
tapes that slept in the rain.
I don’t want you to have a way, to be
precisely what comes behind your hand,
because water, consider water, and lions
when dissolved in the sugar of the fable,
and the gestures, that architecture of nothingness,
by lighting their lamps in the middle of the meeting.
Everything tomorrow is the board where I invent you and you
soon to erase you, so you are not, nor with that
straight hair, that smile.
I look for your sum, the rim of the glass where the wine
is also the moon and the mirror,
I look for that line that makes a man tremble in
a museum gallery.
Besides, I love you, and it’s cold and weathered.
- Analysis of the poem : faithful to his style, Julio Cortázar spoke thus about a love that made him lose his mind.
Morning sonnet to a weightless schoolgirl, by Gabriel García-Márquez
As he passes by, he greets me, and after the wind
that gives the breath of his early voice
in the square light of a window
it fogs up, not the glass, but the breath
It’s early as a bell.
It fits in the unlikely, like a story
and when you cut the thread of the moment
she pours her white blood in the morning.
If she wears blue and goes to school,
can’t tell if you’re walking or flying
because it’s like a breeze, so light
that in the blue morning is not required
which of the three that pass is the breeze,
which is the girl and which is the morning.
- Analysis of the poem : the author of “One Hundred Years of Solitude” thus described a brief platonic romance with a young schoolgirl.
Cover Me, Love, the Heaven of Mouth, by Rafael Alberti
Cover me, love, heaven from the mouth
with that extreme foamy outburst,
which is jasmine of the one who knows and of the one who burns,
sprouting at the tip of rock coral.
Go crazy, love, your salt, go crazy
Your sharp lancinant supreme flower,
Bending your anger into a headband
of the biting carnation that unlocks it.
Oh girded flow, love, oh beautiful
tempered bubbling of snow
by such a narrow cave in raw flesh,
to watch your fine neck
you slip, love, and it rains
of jasmines and spit stars!
- Analysis of the poem : about female beauty and its honeys. By the great Rafael Alberti.
As If Every Kiss, by Fernando Pessoa
As if every kiss
Out of bye-bye
I love you at ten o’clock in the morning, by Jaime Sabines
I love you at ten in the morning, and at eleven,
and at twelve o’clock in the day. I love you with all my soul and
with my whole body, sometimes, on rainy afternoons.
But at two in the afternoon, or three, when I
I think of the two of us, and you think of the
food or in daily work or entertainment
that you don’t have, I get to deafly hate you, with
half the hate I keep to myself.
Then I love you again, when we go to bed and
I feel that you are made for me, that somehow
your knee and your belly tell me, that my hands
convince me of this, and that there is no other place in
where I come, where I go, better than you
body. You come all the way to me, and
we both disappear for a moment, we get in
in the mouth of God, until I tell you that I have
hunger or sleep.
Every day I love you and hate you irrevocably.
And there are days too, there are hours, when you don’t
I know you, in that you are alien to me like the woman
of another, I care about men, I care
me, I’m distracted by my sorrows. I probably won’t think
in you for a long time. You see who
could love you less than I do, my love?
- Analysis of the poem : one of the love poems that focuses on the small details of living together and the emotional impact that all this has.
The poet asks his love to write to him, by Federico García Lorca
Love of my loins, long live death,
in vain I wait for your written word
and I feed, with the fading flower,
that if I live without me I want to lose you.
The air is immortal. The inert stone
he neither knows the shadow nor avoids it.
Inner heart not needed
the icy honey that the moon pours.
But I suffered you. I tore my veins,
tiger and dove, on your waist
in a duel of bites and lilies.
Fill my madness with words
or let me live in my serenity
night of the soul forever dark.
- Analysis of the poem : this work by Lorca shows the most tragic and melancholic face of love relationships, which often lead us to a whirlwind of emotions.
Love, by Salvador Novo
Love is this shy silence
near you, without you knowing it,
and remember your voice when you leave
and feel the warmth of your greeting.
To love is to wait for you
as if you were part of the sunset,
neither before nor after, so that we are alone
between games and stories
on the dry land.
To love is to perceive, when you are absent,
your perfume in the air I breathe,
and contemplate the star in which you walk away
when I close the door at night.
- Analysis of the poem : these verses highlight the part of love linked to simplicity and humility.
First Love, by Leopoldo María Panero
This smile that comes to me like the west
that is crushed against my flesh that I felt until then
hot or cold only
this burnt music or butterfly weak as air that
I’d like just one pin to prevent it from falling
when the clock moves forward without horizon or moon without wind
this sadness or cold
don’t knock on my door let the wind blow your
behind are the shapes that follow one another without leaving a trace
everything that happens and falls apart leaving only a smoke
behind are the dreams that today are only ice or stone
fresh water as a kiss from the other side of the horizon.
- Analysis of the poem : a poem full of powerful and evocative symbols and images.
Who shines, by Alejandra Pizarnik
When you look at me
my eyes are keys,
the wall has secrets,
my fear words, poems.
Only you make my memory
a fascinated traveller,
a ceaseless fire.
- Analysis of the poem : this Argentinean poetess talks about the potential of love relationships when it comes to bringing out the best in oneself.
Mercedes Blanco, by Leopoldo María Panero
Finally you came to rock
in your arms the corpse of my soul
with a dead woman’s smile
to tell me that the dead speak
to make love in the ashes.
At last you appeared in the midst of the purest
emptiness-where there were no
no more names or words, not even
my memory in the world, in myself:
you finally arrived as a memory.
If even though it is impossible for you to stop loving me, nevertheless
your blind heart is determined to make you forget me
I will then be the Impossible One, I will be
I who entirely incarnate in wax
the white face of the Impossible. But you have come here
as if you were leaving forever, to tell me
that there is still one Truth left. And you have already won
to the black hole behind the soul
and who is waiting only to see us fall, who is waiting for us.
And I understood that I was. And that I would still be
“among the many men one”
as an Aussie translator told me,
yes, but being that desert
inhabited entirely by you,
that you were also one.
And I offered you the desert as a reward
and the loneliness, to dwell in it
yet never alter its purity;
I offered you, I offer you
my destruction. And I just told you
of me than before
of you the present was a form of the past;
and that waiting was a way of missing time
hearing only, on the horizon of waiting, the echo
of a music in which everything
fell as if it never was, and that he knew
that doing it was easy for him, because everything
has its vocation of not having been: until the thing
simpler I would like
disappear. But you came to inhabit that echo
and give meaning to the voice that speaks alone
because he knows -he knew- that it was that
the way everyone talks, and the only
possible way of speaking. And you kissed
gently in my mouth my drool,
who once stained the blank paper.
You arrived, and I would like to
to have been even less, and to regret it even more
of my life that someone else lived for me.
I’m not the one who’s called me: only you call me.
I am not, nor are you, this shadow I call
to talk about you like I would
the rain that never stopped falling; to offer you your reflection
in the water of an ocean under which someone
they say he’s dead-maybe you’re smiling at me.
And you told me: death speaks, and I answer you:
only the dead talk, among themselves.
I offer you no joy, but only happiness
fecundity of impossibility, as a continuous sting
of the invisible life of our love. I tell you only:
listen to how m
do it: only slowly, inventing
the flower that didn’t exist: if you and I now
we love each other, we will have loved for the first time.
I offer you no joy, but only the struggle
of subjective beauty for being true,
but only pleasure
of a long and certain agony because only-
mind when you die is known
that was bliss. This dead elephant, this search
of the definitely lost, this waiting
who’s just waiting to find his own speech.
I’m waiting for you
at the end of the road: i do not offer you
join me at the grave.
- Analysis of the poem : a poem in which one can appreciate the convulsive relationship that this poet had with the woman who gives the work its title, and in which love is expressed from a pessimistic and tragic perspective.
Owner of the black mouth, by José Zorrilla
Owner of the negro plays,
that of the monkish purple,
for a kiss from your mouth
gave Granada Boabdil.
Diera the spear better
of the most bizarre Zenete,
and with its fresh greenness
a whole bank of the Darro.
Give the bullfighting party
and, if they were in your hands,
with the zambra of the moros
the value of Christians.
Diera oriental rugs,
and armour and pebetes,
and give… what you’re worth,
up to forty riders.
Because your eyes are beautiful,
because the light of dawn
goes up to the East from them,
and the world its golden fire.
Your lips are a ruby,
…split in two…
He was torn out for you
of God’s crown.
From your lips, the smile,
the peace of your tongue flows…
light, airy, like breeze
of glitter tomorrow.
Oh, what a beautiful Nazarene
for an oriental harem,
drop the black mane
on the glass neck,
in velvet bed,
among a cloud of aroma,
and wrapped in the white veil
of the daughters of Mohammed!
Come to Cordoba, Christian,
sultana you will be there,
and the sultan will be, oh sultana,
a slave for you.
It will give you so much wealth,
so much Tunisian gala,
who is to judge your beauty
to pay him back, petty.
Owner of the negro plays,
for a kiss from your mouth
gave a Boabdil kingdom;
and I therefore, Christian,
I’ll gladly give you
A thousand heavens, if it were a thousand.
- Analysis of the poem : one of the love poems in which references to the exoticism attributed to eastern cultures are most often used.
Absence, by Jorge Luis Borges
I shall raise the vast life
that even now is your mirror:
every morning I’ll have to rebuild it.
Since you walked away,
how many places have become vacant
and meaningless, equal
to lights in the daytime.
Evenings that were a niche of your image,
music you always waited for me,
words of that time,
I’ll have to break them with my hands.
In what hollow shall I hide my soul
so I don’t see your absence
that like a terrible sun, without a sunset,
shines brightly and mercilessly?
Your absence surrounds me
like the rope to the throat,
the sea to which it sinks.
Analysis of the poem :
Isabel…, your garden trembles at the table.
At night, you would straighten your hair,
I fell asleep, meditating on them
and in your body of pink: butterfly
pink and white, veiled.
Blow up my rose forever
-Mademoiselle Elizabeth- and my heaven.
- Analysis of the poem : a beautiful short love poem in which, in a few verses, much is expressed