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Explore the Craft of Writing Poetry Spanish Verse The Sonnet Sonnet Comparison Chart The Spanish Soneta or Spanish Sonnet, Spain's variation of the little song is written in hendecasyllabic lines. It was influenced by its Italian neighbors and uses an Italian and Sicilian rhyme schemes. The Soneta is often used for monologues or exchanging vows of love. El Marqués de Santillana ( 1398-1458), was the first to write sonnets in the Spanish language. His unpublished works were in the Petrarchan form. By the 16th century, two Spanish "gentleman writers", Juan Boscán and Garcilaso de la Vega, popularized the form. But it was 17th century Francisco Quevedo who brought the sonnet to the forefront of Spanish literature. The elements of the Spanish Soneta are: a quatorzain made up of 2 Italian quatrains followed by a Sicilian sestet. syllabic, hendecasyllabic lines. In English often written in iambic pentameter. rhymed, rhyme scheme abba abba cdcdcd, pivot develops logically after the 2nd quatrain. Sonneto XX by Pablo Neruda Mi fea, eres una castaña despeinada, mi bella, eres hermosa como el viento, mi fea, de tu boca se pueden hacer dos, mi bella, son tus besos frescos como sandías Mi fea, ¿dónde están escondidos tus senos? Son mínimos como dos copas de trigo. Me gustaría verte dos lunas en el pecho: las gigantescas torres de tu soberanía. Mi fea, el mar no tiene tus uñas en su tienda, mi bella, flor a flor, estrella por estrella, ola por ola, amor, he contado tu cuerpo: mi fea, te amo por tu cintura de oro, mi bella, te amo por una arruga en tu frente, amor, te amo por clara y por oscura. My ugly, you're an uncombed chestnut, my belle, you're beautiful like the wind, my ugly, two mouths can be made out of yours, my belle, fresh like watermelons are your kisses. My ugly, where do your breasts hide? They're tiny like two cups of wheat. I'd like to see two moons in your chest: the gigantic towers of your sovereignty. My ugly, the sea hasn't got your nails in its store my belle, flower by flower, star by star, wave by wave, love, I've counted your body: my ugly, I love you because of your waist of gold, my belle, I love you because of a wrinkle in your forehead, love, I love you because you're clear and dark. To my Brothers by John Keats Small busy flames play through the fresh laid coals And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep Like whispers of the household gods that keep A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls. And while for rhymes, I search around the poles, Your eyes are fixed, as in poetic sleep, Upon the lore so voluble and deep That aye at fall of night our care condoles. This is your birthday Tom, and I rejoice That thus it passes smoothly, quietly. Many such eves of gently whisp'ring noise May we together pass and calmly try What are this worlds true joy, - ere the great voice From its fair face, shall bid our spirits fly.