The Language of the Earth: POETRY.

Poetry has always had its gaze fixed on nature. From the ancient classics to contemporary verses, poets have observed and named mountains, rivers, skies, seasons, flowers, and animals not merely as description, but as mirrors of our own emotions. Every landscape becomes a metaphor, every river or forest reflects what we feel, a place where we project joys, nostalgias, sorrows, or wonder. This has traditionally been called nature poetry: a dialogue between the outer world and our inner world.

In recent years, a more conscious and urgent approach has gained strength: ecopoetry. Some authors describe it as poetry that not only contemplates the beauty of the natural world but also denounces its harm, the degradation of ecosystems, the ecological crisis that surrounds us. Yet ecopoetry is not limited to warning; it is not just a cry of alarm. Above all, it is a form of deep attention and listening, a learning about how to coexist with the Earth. While nature poetry invites us to look, ecopoetry invites us to inhabit what we observe, to recognize ourselves as part of what we admire, to feel responsible for its care and survival.

Beyond labels and categories, what truly matters is the intimate experience each of us establishes with nature. It is not merely contemplation or denunciation: it is the silent, profound, almost mystical encounter with the life around us. That personal communication, often wordless, is what gives poetry its meaning. It is what transforms a landscape into a poem and a poem into an act of connection with the world.

In the end, names are secondary. What counts is not whether we speak of nature poetry, ecopoetry, or any other label, but how we feel, listen, and allow ourselves to be touched by the Earth. What I truly feel (beyond definitions and categories) is that poetry is the Earth’s : a language capable of expressing its mystery, fragility, and infinite beauty, a language that reminds us that we are part of a whole, that our emotions, our silences, and our gestures resonate with the nature that sustains us.

Poetry first invites us to look, then to inhabit, and finally to recognize our responsibility. It teaches us that beauty is not just an object of contemplation, but a bond reminding us that we are alive and part of a world that deserves care and respect. Reading a poem about a forest, hearing a verse about a river, feeling the cadence of the seasons through someone else’s words, is to learn to inhabit the Earth with greater attention, tenderness, and awareness.

In this sense, every poem becomes a bridge: between us and the world, between the human and the nonhuman, between emotion and action. Poetry is not an aesthetic luxury, nor merely a play of words; it is, in some way, a way of listening to the planet’s heartbeat and responding with our own. And that is the deepest lesson: poetry reminds us that the Earth speaks, and if we learn to hear it, we can also learn to live in harmony with it.

In the end, every word that arises from nature and returns to it is an act of communion. In that communion, we discover that poetry does not merely describe the Earth it embodies it; it does not merely reflect our emotions it teaches us to feel with the world. Thus, every verse becomes a small home in which we can inhabit, a language in which the Earth and we recognize each other mutually.