There are many authors over the centuries who have decided to write poems about death, a sensitive and difficult subject to deal with.
Many spoke of it with slight detachment, others experienced it by losing people very dear to them, and this triggered a feeling of grief and suffering that they poured into the beautiful texts that have come down to us.
In this article we have listed some of the most beautiful poems about death. These very often are also a thought for those who are experiencing this moment to read, so that they can find comfort in the words of those who have already experienced the pain of loss.
If you want to suggest other poems about death, write to us on Instagram!
Poems about Death
IN DEATH OF HIS BROTHER GIOVANNI – UGO FOSCOLO
This poem by Ugo Foscolo is dedicated to his brother Giovanni, who died by suicide because of debt. The author begins by addressing the departed person directly, and here we see some of the recurring themes in Foscolian poetics: the dialogue between the living and the dead, the distance from one’s homeland experienced with grief, and fate. Foscolo gave us one of the most beautiful poems of his era.
One day, if I don’t always go fleeing
From people to people, you’ll see me sitting
On thy stone, O my brother, groaning
The flower of thy kind years fallen
:
The mother now sol, her late day drawing,
Speak of me with your mute ashes:
But I disappointed to you the palms I tend;
And if from afar my roofs I greet,
I hear the adverse Numi, and the secrete
Cares that to thy living were storm;
And I pray too in your quiet harbor:
This of so much hope remains with me today!
Foreign people, my bones render
then to the bosom of the mournful mother.
POEMS ABOUT DEATH.
DEATH IS THE BEND IN THE ROAD – FERNANDO PESSOA
Death is the bend in the road,
To die is just not to be seen.
If I listen, I hear your footsteps
Exist as I exist.
The earth is made of heaven.
The lie has no nest.
Never has anyone gone astray.
Everything is truth and passage.
Poems about death:
POEMS ABOUT DEATH.
FRANCO ARMINIO, FROM “GIVE WAY TO THE TREES”
The poet and paesologist as always gives us a delicate but incisive poem that knows how to get where he wants to go. Arminius’ mission seems to be to give a tireless and necessary message of needed gentleness and thoughtfulness. Through his poems he wants to remind us of the never triviality of the small, be it gesture or country.
Not only do we have to die
but before us
We witness the death of others,
slow or sudden, always unfair,
infamous, hideous.
Clarified that against death
nothing we can,
we have nothing else to do
than to be careful
and give us
A moment of good, one at a time,
One for us and one at a time,
One for us and one for others.
They can be loved ones
Or unknown people, it matters little,
What matters is to steal the seed of goodness
And plant it on people’s faces.
POEMS ABOUT DEATH.
I WENT DOWN GIVING YOU MY ARM, AT LEAST A MILLION STAIRS – EUGENIO MONTALE
Impossible not to know one of Eugenio Montale’s most beautiful poems. The author addresses the disappearance of the beloved by talking about the depth of absence, the infinitesimal emptiness at each step. The poet also wrote another beautiful poem dedicated to his wife (you will find it further down).
I went down, giving you my arm, at least a million stairs
And now that you are not there is emptiness at every step.
Even so, our long journey was short.
Mine endures to this day, nor do I need any more
the connections, the reservations,
the traps, the scorns of those who believe
That reality is what you see.
I went down millions of stairs giving you my arm
not already because with four eyes maybe you can see more.
With you I went down them because I knew that of the two of us.
The only true pupils, though so blurred,
were your own.
POEMS ABOUT DEATH.
THEY SAY MINE IS A POEM OF INAPPEARANCE – EUGENIO MONTALE
They say my
Is a poem of inappearance.
But if it was yours it was someone’s:
Of you who are no longer form, but essence.
They say poetry at its peak.
Magnificent the All on the Run,
deny that the tortoise
Is faster than lightning.
You alone knew that motion is no different from stasis,
That emptiness is fullness and serenity is the most diffuse of clouds.
So better I understand your long journey
Imprisoned in bandages and casts.
Yet it gives me no rest
To know that in one or two we are one.
POEMS ABOUT DEATH.
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