Figuras Literarias Del Poema Masa De Cesar Vallejo [ REAL — Solution ]

Crucially, the poem is built on a central (an apparent contradiction that reveals a deeper truth). The title itself, “Masa” (Mass or Crowd), is paradoxically set against the image of a single, isolated corpse. The ultimate paradox is, of course, resurrection through human agency alone, without divine intervention. The poem asks us to believe that “todos los hombres” can achieve what only a god was thought to do. Yet Vallejo resolves this paradox by redefining death: the man dies because he is alone (“muerto el combatiente”), and he lives when he is embraced by “todos los hombres.” Death, then, is not the cessation of breath but the state of absolute solitude. Life is not a beating heart but being held by the mass. The final lines—“Le dio el ser y la muerte” (He gave him being and death)—is the ultimate paradoxical synthesis: the crowd contains both, because to be part of the mass is to transcend both individual death and individual life.

The poem opens with a stark, almost clinical declaration of death: “Al fin de la batalla, / y muerto el combatiente, vino hacia él un hombre…” This initial realism is immediately subverted by the central device of (exaggeration). The dead man is not mourned but physically approached and spoken to: “Le dijo: ‘No mueras, te amo tanto!’” The command “No mueras” is an impossible one, yet the hyperbolic “te amo tanto” gives it a desperate, irrational force. The progression of the crowd—from one man, to two, to “mil,” to “cien mil,” to “un millón,” and finally “todos los hombres” (all men)—is a crescendo of numerical hyperbole. This escalation is not meant to be realistic; rather, it symbolizes the exponential power of collective will. The exaggeration underscores the poem’s central thesis: that no single man can reverse death, but an entire humanity, united by love, can perform a miracle. figuras literarias del poema masa de cesar vallejo

Finally, Vallejo employs , particularly tactile and auditory images, to make the abstract concept of solidarity physically real. The repeated acts of kissing, embracing (“tanto lo besó”), lifting, and walking are profoundly tactile. They transform love from an emotion into a force of physics, capable of moving a dead weight. The auditory image of the crowd’s voice—first a single man’s plea, then a murmur, then a thunderous “no te vayas” (don’t go away)—creates a sonic wall against the silence of the grave. The dead man’s “sorrow” is an internal, emotional sensation, but it is triggered by the external, sensory bombardment of human touch and sound. Vallejo shows that solidarity is not an idea; it is something you feel on your skin and hear in your ears. Crucially, the poem is built on a central

In conclusion, the literary devices in “Masa” are not ornamental flourishes but the very engines of the poem’s meaning. Hyperbole elevates a simple act of mourning into a cosmic event. Anaphora gives the collective voice a ritualistic, unstoppable rhythm. Prosopopoeia grants the dead a responsive interiority, making resurrection a dialogue rather than a miracle. Paradox forces the reader to accept a new definition of life and death based on community. And sensory imagery makes this new reality palpable. Vallejo’s genius lies in using these devices to turn a poem about a dead soldier into a universal manifesto: that no one is truly dead as long as they are held by the mass of humanity. In “Masa,” the ultimate literary device is love itself—the one figure of speech that, Vallejo suggests, can literally bring the dead back to life. The poem asks us to believe that “todos