10 Poems About The Sun By Great Authors

The poems about the sun pay a deserved tribute to the star king. Human beings, even before the formation of the first civilizations, have felt a fascination for this celestial body.

From their very particular way of understanding the world, poets have dedicated many verses to highlight its importance.

Poems about the sun

Poems about the sun by well-known authors are numerous. Some well-known poets even have two or more works dedicated to the star king. Of the five poems in this selection, the one by Rafael Alberti stands out for being a composition aimed at children.   

The sun is a balloon of fire (Antonio Machado)

The sun is a balloon of fire
the moon is a purple disk.
A white dove perches
in the tall centenary cypress.
Myrtle paintings seem
of withered hairy powdered.
The garden and the quiet afternoon! …
The water sounds in the marble fountain.

Tropic sun (Excerpt, Gabriela Mistral)

Sun of the Incas, sun of the Mayas,
mature american sun,
sun in which mayan and quiche
recognized and adored,
and in which old Aymaraes
like amber they were burned.
Red pheasant when you lift
and when you mean, white pheasant,
sun painter and tattoo artist
of caste of man and of leopard.

Sun of mountains and valleys,
from the depths and the plains,
Rafael of our marches,
golden hound of our steps,
for all land and all sea
watchword of my brothers.
If we get lost, let them look for us
in some scorched limes,
where the breadfruit exists
and the balsam tree suffers.

Sun (Juan Ramón Jiménez)

THERE in the background
from my library,
the last minute sun, which confuses
my colors in clear and divine light,
caress my books, sweetly.

What clear company
yours; how it enlarges
the room, and turns it, fills it,
in the valley, in the sky – Andalusia! -,
in childhood, in love!

Like a child, like a dog,
go from book to book,
doing what he wants …
When, suddenly, I look at him,
he stops, and contemplates me for a long time,
with divine music, with a friend’s bark, with cool babbling …

Then it goes off …
The divine and pure light
It’s color again, and alone, and mine.
And what I feel dark
is my soul, just like
if he had stayed again
without its valley and its sky – Andalusia! -,
without his childhood and his love.

Hymn to the sun (Excerpt, José María Heredia)

In the wastelands of the sea, where you live,
Rise, oh Muse! your eloquent voice:
The infinite surrounds your forehead,
Infinity supports your feet.
Come: to the bronco roar of the waves
An accent so fierce and sublime,
May my warm chest revive,
And my forehead lit up again.

The stars around are fading,
The east turns pink,
And the shadow welcomes the west
And to the distant clouds of the south:
And from the east on the vague horizon,
How confused and dense it was,
There is a splendid, immense portico,
Of gold, purple, fire and blue.

Long live the morning sun! (Rafael Alberti)

Long live the morning sun!
Long live the sun!,
shouts the bird on the branch.

And the peasant sings to him:
Long live the sun!

And the orange boy overwhelmed
of oranges: Long live the sun!

And the roof of the house:
Long live the sun!

And the horse that feels it,
warm grass, in the throat:
Long live the sun!

Long live the sun! the river rises,
and the flag that passes:
Long live the sun!

All the earth is a Viva!
the whole world, a jungle:
Long live the sun!

Sun (Pablo Neruda)

Some time ago, far away,
I set foot in a country so clear
that until night it was phosphorescent:
I keep hearing the sound of that light,
round amber is the whole sky:
blue sugar rises from the sea.

Again, you know, and forever
add light to patriotism:
my duties are hard daytime:
I must deliver and open new windows,
establish undefeated clarity
and even if they do not understand me, continue
my glassware propaganda.

I do not know why it is the turn of a native mourner
, a winter product,
a provincial with the smell of rain
this reverberating profession.

Sometimes I think to imitate humility
and ask that they forgive my joy
but I don’t have time: it is necessary to
arrive early and run elsewhere for
no other reason than the light of today,
my own light or the light of the night:
and when I already extended the clarity
at that point or any other
they tell me that it is dark in Peru,
that the light did not come out in Patagonia.

And without being able to sleep I must leave:
why would I learn to be transparent!

Today, this open midday flies
with all the bees of light:
the distance is a single glass,
to the clear territory of my life.

And the sun shines towards Valparaíso.

The cage (Alejandra Pizarnik)

There is sun outside.
It is not more than a sun
but men look at it
and then sing.

I don’t know about the sun.
I know the melody of the angel
and the hot sermon
of the last wind.
I know how to scream until dawn
when death lays naked
in my shadow.

I cry under my name.
I wave handkerchiefs at night
and ships thirsty for reality
dance with me.
I hide nails
to mock my sick dreams.

There is sun outside.
I dress myself in ashes.

The sun has broken (Federico García Lorca)

The sun has broken
amid copper clouds.
From the blue mountains comes a soft air.
In the meadow of heaven,
among flowers of stars,
the crescent moon goes
like a golden hook.

Through the countryside, (waiting for the tropes of souls),
I am loaded with sorrow.
I walk alone.
But my heart
a strange dream sings
of a hidden passion
in bottomless distance.

Echoes of white hands
on my cold forehead,
passion that would ripen
with tears from my eyes!

We were the chosen of the sun (Vicente Huidobro)

We were the chosen ones of the sun
and we did not realize
we were the chosen ones of the highest star
and we did not know how to respond to his gift
Anguish of impotence
the water loved us
the jungles were ours
the ecstasy was our own space
your gaze was the universe face to face
your beauty was the sound of dawn
the spring loved by the trees
Now we are a contagious sadness
a death before time
the soul that does not know where
the winter is in the bones without a lightning
and all this because you did not know what which is eternity
nor did you understand the soul of my soul in its ship of darkness
on its throne of an eagle wounded into infinity.

Sun (Excerpt, José de Espronceda)

Stop and hear me oh sun! I greet you
and ecstatic before you I dare to speak to you:
my fantasy ardent like you,
caught up in your
fearless eagerness to admire your guide wings.
May my powerful accent,
sublime resounding,
from the dreadful thunder
the fearful voice surpassing,
oh sun! It will come to you
and in the middle of your course it will stop you!
Ah! If the flame that my mind enlightens
would also give its ardor to my senses;
to the victorious ray that dazzles them,
the yearning eyes I would raise,
and in your bright, daring countenance,
looking incessantly, I would fix them.
How I have always loved you, shining sun!
With what simple yearning,
being an innocent child,
I longed to follow you in the stretched sky,
and ecstatic I
saw you and in contemplating your light I was immersed!


  1. Machado, A. (1990). How easy it is to fly. Buenos Aires: Ediciones Colihue SRL.
  2. Mistral, G. (1985) Tala. Santiago de Chile: Pehuén Editores.
  3. Jiménez, JR (1983). The invisible reality. London: Thames.
  4. Heredia, JM (2012). Poems Barcelona: Linkgua digital.
  5. Alberti, R. (1988). Poetry: 1939-1963. Madrid: Aguilar.

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