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52. Melancholia. Her you see my soured countenance,/ No feelings are repressed./ Life is always the same;/ Those who go are soon forgotten,/ The Dead are quickly buried.
52. Melancholia. Her you see my soured countenance,/ No feelings are repressed./ Life is always the same;/ Those who go are soon forgotten,/ The Dead are quickly buried.

52. Melancholia. Her you see my soured countenance,/ No feelings are repressed./ Life is always the same;/ Those who go are soon forgotten,/ The Dead are quickly buried.

Alternate Titles
  • 100 Original Woodcuts by Posada
Artist (Mexican, 1852 - 1913)
Date1947
ClassificationsPrint
MediumColor woodcut
Dimensions3 1/8 x 2 3/4 in.
Credit LineGift of Jack Lord
Object number1973.74
54. Adjuster Tequila. Whatever the caprice or even shock—/ Toward a tranquil life/ I always adjust myself:/ Here I am, Adjuster Tequila.
54. Adjuster Tequila. Whatever the caprice or even shock—/ Toward a tranquil life/ I always adjust myself:/ Here I am, Adjuster Tequila.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
79. Passée. “How old-fashioned is that lady!”/ Those who see me think or say;/ But, I have much more modesty/ Than the young girls of today.
79. Passée. “How old-fashioned is that lady!”/ Those who see me think or say;/ But, I have much more modesty/ Than the young girls of today.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
66. Fate. Those who make small use of life/ Live a dog’s life;/ But some are born under a lucky star,/ And others have fate against them.
66. Fate. Those who make small use of life/ Live a dog’s life;/ But some are born under a lucky star,/ And others have fate against them.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
45. The Hard-headed Merchant. I became rich quickly./ How? As a merchant (now you know);/ And, it wasn’t because of flattery;/ I haven’t a foolish hair on my head.
45. The Hard-headed Merchant. I became rich quickly./ How? As a merchant (now you know);/ And, it wasn’t because of flattery;/ I haven’t a foolish hair on my head.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
9. Little Calavera. Run, Skinny, run./ Water is always harmful,/ Even in a bath./ After one is fifty/ He should not even wash.
9. Little Calavera. Run, Skinny, run./ Water is always harmful,/ Even in a bath./ After one is fifty/ He should not even wash.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
59. Old Writer. I am an old writer/ Always in need of money;/ Better had I been a baker,/ Stevedore or shoemaker.
59. Old Writer. I am an old writer/ Always in need of money;/ Better had I been a baker,/ Stevedore or shoemaker.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
Obrero, culto, bribón,/ A la misma tabla ván… (Ni está todos los que son/ Ni son todos los que están) (99. Equals. Workman, scholar, scoundrel,/ On the same slab end;/ And all who should be are not there,/ Nor are people really what they would appear.)
Obrero, culto, bribón,/ A la misma tabla ván… (Ni está todos los que son/ Ni son todos los que están) (99. Equals. Workman, scholar, scoundrel,/ On the same slab end;/ And all who should be are not there,/ Nor are people really what they would appear.)
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
Yo por el pueblo trabajo,/ Viva la igualdad, ¡que viva!/ La igualdad…con los de arriba,/ Pero no con los de abajos. (69. Public Servant. I work for the people!/ Long live equality! Viva!/ Equality— with those who are above me,/ Never with those below.)
Yo por el pueblo trabajo,/ Viva la igualdad, ¡que viva!/ La igualdad…con los de arriba,/ Pero no con los de abajos. (69. Public Servant. I work for the people!/ Long live equality! Viva!/ Equality— with those who are above me,/ Never with those below.)
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
1. The Bureaucrat. Among books and files/ I pass my life,/ And what is the result?/ Well...You see for yourself!
1. The Bureaucrat. Among books and files/ I pass my life,/ And what is the result?/ Well...You see for yourself!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
26. The Power of Verse. This happened— it is true— /Yet no one will believe it;/ A fool began to read/ My verses at a funeral—/ And the Living fell down dead,/ And the Dead began to run!
26. The Power of Verse. This happened— it is true— /Yet no one will believe it;/ A fool began to read/ My verses at a funeral—/ And the Living fell down dead,/ And the Dead began to run!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
Image Not Available for 12. All Hallow’s Eve. At last the day of all the dead has arrive,/ On which they rejoice, replete with pleasures without number./ In place of sad mourning for ourselves,/ Let us, with laughs and pulque, go cry in our cups.
12. All Hallow’s Eve. At last the day of all the dead has arrive,/ On which they rejoice, replete with pleasures without number./ In place of sad mourning for ourselves,/ Let us, with laughs and pulque, go cry in our cups.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
96. Yesteryear. These styles are not in fashion;/ I go back in time, in truth./ In those days all was covered,/ Today they’re almost nude!
96. Yesteryear. These styles are not in fashion;/ I go back in time, in truth./ In those days all was covered,/ Today they’re almost nude!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947