The couplets They are a very popular type of poem in the Hispanic tradition. They are poetic compositions that are generally meant to be sung. They are usually made up of verses of minor art (in most cases eight syllables) and use a colloquial language to deal with issues of everyday life.
It is estimated that the coplas arose in Spain in the 17th century, as a form of popular expression. Although it is common for the authors of the traditional couplets to be unknown, there have also been some renowned coplers, such as Rafael de León, Manuel López Quiroga, Antonio Quintero and Federico García Lorca.
The rhyme of the couplets can be assonant (where only the vowels coincide from the stressed vowel) or consonant (where vowels and consonants coincide from the stressed vowel).
In general, couplets usually have the following metric forms:
- romance quatrain. They have verses of eight syllables, and the rhymes are between the second and the fourth verse, while the first and third are free.
- redondilla. They have eight syllable verses, where the first verse rhymes with the fourth, and the second verse with the third.
- Seguidilla. They have the odd lines of seven syllables and free rhyme, while the even lines are of five syllables and with assonance rhyme.
Themes of the couplets
The couplets can address different themes, but almost always with a strong emotional charge, trying to generate sentimental mobilization in the listener or reader. The couplets bring the author or relator of the couplet closer to their listener or reader. They also usually have double meaning resources to generate comic effects in the public.
Over the years, different types of couplets have emerged. Thus, you can find couplets about love, heartbreak, death, religion and everyday life, among many other topics.
Examples of short couplets
For me everything is beautiful
for me everything is the same
i’m a lucky man
that always sings when waking up.
I don’t know what the wind says
I don’t know what the sea says
but when I look at the horizon
I always start crying.
at sunset I sing
a praise to heaven,
but I don’t have my rhyme
and then I regret.
My memory does not forget
but I can forgive
every time i remember
my eyes start to cry.
all my being has loved
to the one who looked at me with contempt,
although my regrets I have forgotten
my pain never stopped.
All I ask is one wish:
that hugs me at night,
and be when my dream wakes up
so that my laughter can be sustained
beyond mere memory.
I have never lost my desires
but my path has changed
because the paths fork
But my soul is still waiting
that summer love
that I have never forgotten
Today I would like to find it again
to recover the time of our delayed love.
The more I think about the lost,
more alive the present,
Well, what’s lost is gone
and the present still beats in my being assiduously.
Thirty days brings September
with April, June and November,
out of twenty-eight there is only one
and the rest, thirty-one.
My hopeful love
it has already vanished,
Well over time I’ve learned
that the past is gone.
when my heart feels
my mouth is silent
when my mind thinks
my lips speak
I am tired of waiting
that your love choose me as before,
I prefer to forget
all your wandering contempt
Your eyes, brunette
They look like you,
because they blink
like a hummingbird
The Son of the Father has come
and for us he gave his life,
but it’s time to remember
so as not to feel that he died in vain.
At the top of that hill
I have nailed my facón,
that’s how you fixed your eyes
inside my heart.
Couplets come, couplets go,
couplets I must not miss.
Songs come out of my chest
like sheep in a pen.
They say that the married
joy is cut off,
I have been married for a long time
and I’m still happy.
My children when I get sick
they run to help me
around my bed
They discuss inheritance.
“Copla esparça”, by Rubén Darío
(in the same way)
The white cat! in bed
maya, bends over, stretches out.
A ruby red ignites
on the globes of the chest.
the untied hair
the divine aroman back.
under the shirt peek
two swans with black necks.
tornado
Princess of my follies,
that your hair unties,
say, why the white cats
do you like dark silks?
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