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The Difficult Days

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Roberto Sosa was born in Honduras in 1930. Expressing the oppression and poverty of his country, the poems in The Difficult Days are from Un Mutido Para Todos Dividido and Los Pobres, which won the Adonais Prize for Poetry in Madrid in 1968.

Originally published in 1983.

The Princeton Legacy Library uses the latest print-on-demand technology to again make available previously out-of-print books from the distinguished backlist of Princeton University Press. These editions preserve the original texts of these important books while presenting them in durable paperback and hardcover editions. The goal of the Princeton Legacy Library is to vastly increase access to the rich scholarly heritage found in the thousands of books published by Princeton University Press since its founding in 1905.

104 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1983

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About the author

Roberto Sosa

31 books9 followers
Roberto Sosa (18 April 1930 – 23 May 2011) was an author and poet born in Yoro, Honduras. He spent his early life working hard to help provide for his poor family. When he was almost thirty years old, he published his first book.

Sosa published Los Pobres in 1969, which won the Adonais Prize in Spain. Un Mundo Para Todos Dividido, published in 1971, won the Casa de las Americas Prize in Cuba. By 1990, he had published six books of poetry, three of prose, and two anthologies of Honduran literature. In 1990, he published Obra Completa (Complete Works).

The Difficult Days, Poems, The Common Grief, and The Return of the River have all been translated into English.

At the time of his death, Sosa lived in Tegucigalpa, the capital city of Honduras. He was the editor of a magazine, Presente, and the president of the Honduras Journalists’ Union. He also taught literature at the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de Honduras.

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Profile Image for Edita.
1,590 reviews599 followers
July 5, 2017
It’s raining. Reality
rustles.
[…]
Something
breaks
inside the man
who has walked too alone.

It’s raining. In the mirror too.
Someone says to me: it’s true,
we have no hope.
*
I don’t know how
he kept a star alive inside his breast
nor how he shielded it from stonings,
*
The star hides in its glow.
The fish ignores the orbit of the star.
The traveler desiring
to cross the horizon
will find himself alone.
Displaying 1 of 1 review

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