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丕亘丿蹖鬲 蹖讴 亘賵爻賴
Cien sonetos de amor, Pablo Neruda
毓賳賵丕賳: 丕亘丿蹖鬲 蹖讴 亘賵爻賴貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 亘丕夭爻乇丕蹖蹖: 卮丕賴讴丕乇 亘蹖賳卮 倬跇賵賴貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賲毓蹖賳貙 1383貨 丿乇 176 氐貨 卮丕亘讴: 9647603460貨 毓賳賵丕賳 丿蹖诏乇: 蹖讴氐丿 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕夭 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 趩丕倬 丿賵賲 1384貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕夭 卮丕毓乇丕賳 卮蹖賱蹖丕蹖蹖 賯乇賳 20 賲
毓賳賵丕賳: 丕亘丿蹖鬲 蹖讴 亘賵爻賴貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 亘丕夭爻乇丕蹖蹖: 卮丕賴讴丕乇 亘蹖賳卮 倬跇賵賴貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賲毓蹖賳貙 1383貨 丿乇 176 氐貨 卮丕亘讴: 9647603460貨 毓賳賵丕賳 丿蹖诏乇: 蹖讴氐丿 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕夭 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 趩丕倬 丿賵賲 1384貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕夭 卮丕毓乇丕賳 卮蹖賱蹖丕蹖蹖 賯乇賳 20 賲
176 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1959
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About the author
Pablo Neruda
999听books9,433听followersPablo Neruda, born Ricardo Eli茅cer Neftal铆 Reyes Basoalto in 1904 in Parral, Chile, was a poet, diplomat, and politician, widely considered one of the most influential literary figures of the 20th century. From an early age, he showed a deep passion for poetry, publishing his first works as a teenager. He adopted the pen name Pablo Neruda to avoid disapproval from his father, who discouraged his literary ambitions. His breakthrough came with Veinte poemas de amor y una canci贸n desesperada (Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, 1924), a collection of deeply emotional and sensual poetry that gained international recognition and remains one of his most celebrated works.
Neruda鈥檚 career took him beyond literature into diplomacy, a path that allowed him to travel extensively and engage with political movements around the world. Beginning in 1927, he served in various consular posts in Asia and later in Spain, where he witnessed the Spanish Civil War and became an outspoken advocate for the Republican cause. His experiences led him to embrace communism, a commitment that would shape much of his later poetry and political activism. His collection Espa帽a en el coraz贸n (Spain in Our Hearts, 1937) reflected his deep sorrow over the war and marked a shift toward politically engaged writing.
Returning to Chile, he was elected to the Senate in 1945 as a member of the Communist Party. However, his vocal opposition to the repressive policies of President Gabriel Gonzalez Videla led to his exile. During this period, he traveled through various countries, including Argentina, Mexico, and the Soviet Union, further cementing his status as a global literary and political figure. It was during these years that he wrote Canto General (1950), an epic work chronicling Latin American history and the struggles of its people.
Neruda鈥檚 return to Chile in 1952 marked a new phase in his life, balancing political activity with a prolific literary output. He remained a staunch supporter of socialist ideals and later developed a close relationship with Salvador Allende, who appointed him as Chile鈥檚 ambassador to France in 1970. The following year, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, recognized for the scope and impact of his poetry. His later years were marked by illness, and he died in 1973, just days after the military coup that overthrew Allende. His legacy endures, not only in his vast body of work but also in his influence on literature, political thought, and the cultural identity of Latin America.
Neruda鈥檚 career took him beyond literature into diplomacy, a path that allowed him to travel extensively and engage with political movements around the world. Beginning in 1927, he served in various consular posts in Asia and later in Spain, where he witnessed the Spanish Civil War and became an outspoken advocate for the Republican cause. His experiences led him to embrace communism, a commitment that would shape much of his later poetry and political activism. His collection Espa帽a en el coraz贸n (Spain in Our Hearts, 1937) reflected his deep sorrow over the war and marked a shift toward politically engaged writing.
Returning to Chile, he was elected to the Senate in 1945 as a member of the Communist Party. However, his vocal opposition to the repressive policies of President Gabriel Gonzalez Videla led to his exile. During this period, he traveled through various countries, including Argentina, Mexico, and the Soviet Union, further cementing his status as a global literary and political figure. It was during these years that he wrote Canto General (1950), an epic work chronicling Latin American history and the struggles of its people.
Neruda鈥檚 return to Chile in 1952 marked a new phase in his life, balancing political activity with a prolific literary output. He remained a staunch supporter of socialist ideals and later developed a close relationship with Salvador Allende, who appointed him as Chile鈥檚 ambassador to France in 1970. The following year, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, recognized for the scope and impact of his poetry. His later years were marked by illness, and he died in 1973, just days after the military coup that overthrew Allende. His legacy endures, not only in his vast body of work but also in his influence on literature, political thought, and the cultural identity of Latin America.
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October 30, 2021
Cien Sonetos De Amor = 100 Love Sonnets, Pablo Neruda
Against the backdrop of Isla Negra - the sea and wind, the white sand with its scattering of delicate wild flowers, the hot sun and salty smells of the Pacific - the poet sets the poems in celebration of his love. The subject of that love is Matilde Urrutia de Neruda, Pablo's 'beloved wife'.
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,
because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
毓賳賵丕賳賴丕蹖 趩丕倬 卮丿賴 丿乇 丕蹖乇丕賳: 芦丕亘丿蹖鬲 蹖讴 亘賵爻賴禄貨 芦蹖讴氐丿 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕夭 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕禄貨 芦氐丿鬲丕蹖蹖 毓卮賯 : 睾夭賱賴丕蹖 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴禄貨 芦蹖讴氐丿 睾夭賱賵丕乇賴 蹖 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴禄貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 乇賵夭 亘蹖爻鬲 賵 賳賴賲 賲丕賴 噩賵賱丕蹖 爻丕賱2005賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 丕亘丿蹖鬲 蹖讴 亘賵爻賴貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 亘丕夭爻乇丕蹖蹖: 卮丕賴讴丕乇 亘蹖賳卮 倬跇賵賴貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賲毓蹖賳貙 爻丕賱1383貨 丿乇176氐貨 卮丕亘讴9647603460貨 毓賳賵丕賳 丿蹖诏乇 蹖讴氐丿 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕夭 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 趩丕倬 丿賵賲 爻丕賱1384貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕夭 卮丕毓乇丕賳 卮蹖賱蹖 爻丿賴 20賲
毓賳賵丕賳: 氐丿鬲丕蹖蹖 毓卮賯: 睾夭賱賴丕蹖 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 爻丕爻丕賳 鬲亘爻賲蹖貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳卮乇 丌亘蹖貙 爻丕賱1384貨 丿乇128氐貨 卮丕亘讴9645709695貨
毓賳賵丕賳: 蹖讴氐丿 睾夭賱賵丕乇賴 蹖 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 乇囟丕 賲毓鬲賲丿蹖貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳诏丕賴貙 爻丕賱1394貨 丿乇232氐貨 卮丕亘讴9786003761193貨
蹖讴氐丿 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴貨 蹖丕 芦丕亘丿蹖鬲 蹖讴 亘賵爻賴禄貨 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 毓卮賯 丌鬲卮蹖賳 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴貙 賵 卮丕毓乇蹖 亘夭乇诏貙 丕夭 芦丌賲乇蹖讴丕蹖 賱丕鬲蹖賳禄 丕爻鬲貙 卮丕毓乇蹖 賲乇丿賲蹖貙 讴賴 鬲丕 丌禺乇蹖賳 賱丨馗賴 蹖 丨蹖丕鬲卮丕賳貙 丿乇 賴賲賴 蹖 丿乇丿賴丕貙 賵 乇賳噩賴丕貙 賲乇丿丕賳賴 丿乇 讴賳丕乇 賲乇丿賲丕賳卮 丕蹖爻鬲丕丿賳丿貨 乇丿倬丕蹖 賲乇丿賲丕賳貙 丿乇 亘爻蹖丕乇蹖 丕夭 卮毓乇賴丕蹖 丕蹖卮丕賳貙 亘賵蹖跇賴 丌賳賴丕蹖蹖讴賴 倬爻 丕夭 噩賳诏 丿丕禺賱蹖 芦丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕禄 爻乇賵丿賴 卮丿賴 丕賳丿貙 丿蹖丿賴 賲蹖卮賵丿
賳賯賱 卮毓乇: (賲賳 亘乇丕蹖 賲乇丿賲 賲蹖爻乇丕蹖賲貙 賴乇趩賳丿 趩卮賲丕賳 乇賵爻鬲丕蹖蹖 丌賳丕賳貙 亘賴 禺賵丕賳丿賳 丌賳 賯丕丿乇 賳亘丕卮丿貨 賱丨馗賴 丕蹖 賮乇丕禺賵丕賴丿 乇爻蹖丿貙 讴賴 亘蹖鬲蹖 丕夭 卮毓乇賲貨 賳爻蹖賲蹖 讴賴貙 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲乇丕貙 亘賴 噩賳亘卮 賲蹖丌賵乇丿貙 亘賴 诏賵卮 丌賳丕賳 乇爻丕賳丿貨 丌賳诏丕賴 乇賳噩亘乇貙 趩卮賲丕賳 禺賵丿 乇丕貙 禺賵丕賴丿 诏卮賵丿貙 賵 賲毓丿賳趩蹖貙 賴賲趩賳丕賳 讴賴 爻賳诏 賲蹖卮讴賳丿貙 賱亘禺賳丿蹖 禺賵丕賴丿 夭丿貨 鈥ω� 卮丕蹖丿 亘诏賵蹖賳丿: 丕蹖賳貙 丕夭 蹖丕乇丕賳 賲丕 亘賵丿.貨 倬丕蹖丕賳 賳賯賱 卮毓乇
卮丕蹖丿 亘賴 賴賲蹖賳 丿賱蹖賱 亘賵丿貙 讴賴 賴賲丕乇賴貙 丕夭 丨賲丕蹖鬲 亘蹖丿乇蹖睾 賲乇丿賲丕賳卮貙 亘乇禺賵乇丿丕乇 亘賵丿賳丿貙 賴乇噩丕 讴賴 賲蹖乇賮鬲賳丿貙 丿乇 賴乇 賲賯丕賲蹖貙 爻賳丕鬲賵乇貙 蹖丕 賲噩乇賲蹖 賮乇丕乇蹖貙 賲賵乇丿 丕丨鬲乇丕賲 賵 丨賲丕蹖鬲 賲乇丿賲丕賳卮丕賳 亘賵丿賳丿鈥ω� 丕蹖卮丕賳 丿蹖诏乇 蹖讴 卮丕毓乇 賳亘賵丿賳丿貙 賯賱亘蹖 卮丿賴 亘賵丿賳丿貙 亘賴 賵爻毓鬲 蹖讴 讴卮賵乇! 丕蹖卮丕賳貙 卮丕毓乇 胤亘蹖毓鬲貙 賵 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖 亘賵丿賳丿貙 卮丕毓乇 氐賱丨貙 毓卮賯貙 賵 賲乇丿賲貙 賵 爻乇丕賳噩丕賲: 卮丕毓乇 禺賵蹖卮鬲賳 禺賵蹖卮貨 賵 丕蹖賳 丕蹖爻鬲丕丿賳 乇丕貙 賵 丕蹖賳 賳蹖乇賵 乇丕貙 賲丿蹖賵賳 毓卮賯蹖 亘賵丿賳丿貙 讴賴 丕夭 丕蹖卮丕賳 噩丕賳亘丿丕乇蹖 賲蹖讴乇丿貙 毓卮賯 賴賲爻乇卮 芦賲丕鬲蹖賱丿賴禄貨
倬丕亘賵 賳乇賵丿丕貙 亘蹖卮鬲乇 丕夭 賴賲賴貨 丿乇 丿賵 讴鬲丕亘: 芦丕亘丿蹖鬲 蹖讴 亘賵爻賴禄貨 賵 芦賴賵丕 乇丕 丕夭 賲賳 亘诏蹖乇 禺賳丿賴 丕鬲 乇丕 賳賴禄貨 亘賴 亘蹖丕賳 賴賲蹖賳 毓卮賯 賵 丕孬乇 丌賳 倬乇丿丕禺鬲賴 丕爻鬲
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 12/11/1399賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 07/08/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
Against the backdrop of Isla Negra - the sea and wind, the white sand with its scattering of delicate wild flowers, the hot sun and salty smells of the Pacific - the poet sets the poems in celebration of his love. The subject of that love is Matilde Urrutia de Neruda, Pablo's 'beloved wife'.
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,
because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
毓賳賵丕賳賴丕蹖 趩丕倬 卮丿賴 丿乇 丕蹖乇丕賳: 芦丕亘丿蹖鬲 蹖讴 亘賵爻賴禄貨 芦蹖讴氐丿 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕夭 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕禄貨 芦氐丿鬲丕蹖蹖 毓卮賯 : 睾夭賱賴丕蹖 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴禄貨 芦蹖讴氐丿 睾夭賱賵丕乇賴 蹖 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴禄貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 乇賵夭 亘蹖爻鬲 賵 賳賴賲 賲丕賴 噩賵賱丕蹖 爻丕賱2005賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 丕亘丿蹖鬲 蹖讴 亘賵爻賴貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 亘丕夭爻乇丕蹖蹖: 卮丕賴讴丕乇 亘蹖賳卮 倬跇賵賴貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賲毓蹖賳貙 爻丕賱1383貨 丿乇176氐貨 卮丕亘讴9647603460貨 毓賳賵丕賳 丿蹖诏乇 蹖讴氐丿 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕夭 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 趩丕倬 丿賵賲 爻丕賱1384貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴 丕夭 卮丕毓乇丕賳 卮蹖賱蹖 爻丿賴 20賲
毓賳賵丕賳: 氐丿鬲丕蹖蹖 毓卮賯: 睾夭賱賴丕蹖 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 爻丕爻丕賳 鬲亘爻賲蹖貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳卮乇 丌亘蹖貙 爻丕賱1384貨 丿乇128氐貨 卮丕亘讴9645709695貨
毓賳賵丕賳: 蹖讴氐丿 睾夭賱賵丕乇賴 蹖 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 乇囟丕 賲毓鬲賲丿蹖貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳诏丕賴貙 爻丕賱1394貨 丿乇232氐貨 卮丕亘讴9786003761193貨
蹖讴氐丿 卮毓乇 毓丕卮賯丕賳賴貨 蹖丕 芦丕亘丿蹖鬲 蹖讴 亘賵爻賴禄貨 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 毓卮賯 丌鬲卮蹖賳 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴貙 賵 卮丕毓乇蹖 亘夭乇诏貙 丕夭 芦丌賲乇蹖讴丕蹖 賱丕鬲蹖賳禄 丕爻鬲貙 卮丕毓乇蹖 賲乇丿賲蹖貙 讴賴 鬲丕 丌禺乇蹖賳 賱丨馗賴 蹖 丨蹖丕鬲卮丕賳貙 丿乇 賴賲賴 蹖 丿乇丿賴丕貙 賵 乇賳噩賴丕貙 賲乇丿丕賳賴 丿乇 讴賳丕乇 賲乇丿賲丕賳卮 丕蹖爻鬲丕丿賳丿貨 乇丿倬丕蹖 賲乇丿賲丕賳貙 丿乇 亘爻蹖丕乇蹖 丕夭 卮毓乇賴丕蹖 丕蹖卮丕賳貙 亘賵蹖跇賴 丌賳賴丕蹖蹖讴賴 倬爻 丕夭 噩賳诏 丿丕禺賱蹖 芦丕爻倬丕賳蹖丕禄 爻乇賵丿賴 卮丿賴 丕賳丿貙 丿蹖丿賴 賲蹖卮賵丿
賳賯賱 卮毓乇: (賲賳 亘乇丕蹖 賲乇丿賲 賲蹖爻乇丕蹖賲貙 賴乇趩賳丿 趩卮賲丕賳 乇賵爻鬲丕蹖蹖 丌賳丕賳貙 亘賴 禺賵丕賳丿賳 丌賳 賯丕丿乇 賳亘丕卮丿貨 賱丨馗賴 丕蹖 賮乇丕禺賵丕賴丿 乇爻蹖丿貙 讴賴 亘蹖鬲蹖 丕夭 卮毓乇賲貨 賳爻蹖賲蹖 讴賴貙 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲乇丕貙 亘賴 噩賳亘卮 賲蹖丌賵乇丿貙 亘賴 诏賵卮 丌賳丕賳 乇爻丕賳丿貨 丌賳诏丕賴 乇賳噩亘乇貙 趩卮賲丕賳 禺賵丿 乇丕貙 禺賵丕賴丿 诏卮賵丿貙 賵 賲毓丿賳趩蹖貙 賴賲趩賳丕賳 讴賴 爻賳诏 賲蹖卮讴賳丿貙 賱亘禺賳丿蹖 禺賵丕賴丿 夭丿貨 鈥ω� 卮丕蹖丿 亘诏賵蹖賳丿: 丕蹖賳貙 丕夭 蹖丕乇丕賳 賲丕 亘賵丿.貨 倬丕蹖丕賳 賳賯賱 卮毓乇
卮丕蹖丿 亘賴 賴賲蹖賳 丿賱蹖賱 亘賵丿貙 讴賴 賴賲丕乇賴貙 丕夭 丨賲丕蹖鬲 亘蹖丿乇蹖睾 賲乇丿賲丕賳卮貙 亘乇禺賵乇丿丕乇 亘賵丿賳丿貙 賴乇噩丕 讴賴 賲蹖乇賮鬲賳丿貙 丿乇 賴乇 賲賯丕賲蹖貙 爻賳丕鬲賵乇貙 蹖丕 賲噩乇賲蹖 賮乇丕乇蹖貙 賲賵乇丿 丕丨鬲乇丕賲 賵 丨賲丕蹖鬲 賲乇丿賲丕賳卮丕賳 亘賵丿賳丿鈥ω� 丕蹖卮丕賳 丿蹖诏乇 蹖讴 卮丕毓乇 賳亘賵丿賳丿貙 賯賱亘蹖 卮丿賴 亘賵丿賳丿貙 亘賴 賵爻毓鬲 蹖讴 讴卮賵乇! 丕蹖卮丕賳貙 卮丕毓乇 胤亘蹖毓鬲貙 賵 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖 亘賵丿賳丿貙 卮丕毓乇 氐賱丨貙 毓卮賯貙 賵 賲乇丿賲貙 賵 爻乇丕賳噩丕賲: 卮丕毓乇 禺賵蹖卮鬲賳 禺賵蹖卮貨 賵 丕蹖賳 丕蹖爻鬲丕丿賳 乇丕貙 賵 丕蹖賳 賳蹖乇賵 乇丕貙 賲丿蹖賵賳 毓卮賯蹖 亘賵丿賳丿貙 讴賴 丕夭 丕蹖卮丕賳 噩丕賳亘丿丕乇蹖 賲蹖讴乇丿貙 毓卮賯 賴賲爻乇卮 芦賲丕鬲蹖賱丿賴禄貨
倬丕亘賵 賳乇賵丿丕貙 亘蹖卮鬲乇 丕夭 賴賲賴貨 丿乇 丿賵 讴鬲丕亘: 芦丕亘丿蹖鬲 蹖讴 亘賵爻賴禄貨 賵 芦賴賵丕 乇丕 丕夭 賲賳 亘诏蹖乇 禺賳丿賴 丕鬲 乇丕 賳賴禄貨 亘賴 亘蹖丕賳 賴賲蹖賳 毓卮賯 賵 丕孬乇 丌賳 倬乇丿丕禺鬲賴 丕爻鬲
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 12/11/1399賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 07/08/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
August 23, 2017
I have been mesmerized with the persona of since I saw the film version of back in high school. In that depiction, Neruda is an exiled poet living in Italy during the rise of Mussolini while there befriends his mail carrier in a charming story. Later, having read many novels and memoirs by , I have been privileged to learn of her Chilean perspective of Neruda as the nation's poet laureate, especially during Pinochet's 1973 coup d'茅tat. Yet, until now I had not read any of the Nobel Laureate's poetry. As I continue my summer of reading quality poetry collections, I selected a side by side translated edition of and fell for the work of Neruda the poet.
is a work in four parts, each representing a time of day. Each sonnet is written for Neruda's third wife Matilde Urrutia during the years of 1955-1957. The couple lived together until the poet's death in 1973, and Matilde passed away in 1985. The opening section Manana (Morning) speaks of Neruda's wooing of Maltide and comparing her to the fruits of the earth. He writes of how the "grain grew high in its harvest, in you, in good time the flour swelled; as the dough rose, doubling your breasts, my love was the coal waiting ready in the earth." Employing deeply sensuous language, Neruda in the first thirty three sonnets, hopes and prays that he can woo Matilde to live with him in Isla Negra, his home overlooking the sea in central Chile. With persuasive language, the laureate speaks of his love for his home, using descriptive colors like "seafoam", "orange-and-gasoline rainbow", and "heavenly and sunken blues" in attempts to get Matilde to enter his stunning seaside home.
The two middle sections Mediodia (Afternoon) and Tarde (Evening) describe a deep love between the couple. Sonnet number forty four moved me as the laureate exclaims, "You must know that I do not love and that I love you...I love you in order to begin to love you, to start infinity again, and never stop loving you..." So deep is their love that the language is extremely sensuous and charged with intimate images in each poem. The love flows from these selections, and one can only begin to imagine how deeply the couple care for one another. Sonnet sixty two speaks of the couple's life in Isla Negra with multiple images to kissing and romantic interludes while comparing their love to the "great rain from the South" that falls daily and constantly begins their love anew.
Neruda alludes to how the couple would enjoy eternal love in death in his final section Noche (Night). Sonnet eighty five talks of autumn and nocturnal bodies and how perhaps the couple would be enjoined in an infinite night. I would be remiss if I did not laud the translation by . Noting that North Americans shy away from expressing themselves romantically, Tapscott desired to introduce them to a quality poet and selected Neruda, pointing out that many Americans had already been familiar with the poet's political stance during the fall of the Allende government. With Spanish and English side by side, the English translation is seamless in that none of Neruda's sensuous words diminish in meaning in English. I often found myself reading both the Spanish and English versions of the poems in order to fully appreciate both the depth of Neruda's work and quality of Tapscott's translations.
Awarded the Nobel Prize in 1971 for his life's body of work, is one of 's crowning jewels. Each sonnet is as stunning as the next as the poet fully declares his love for Matilde. In a true labor of love, each of the hundred sonnets is romantically charged, sensuous, and full of enamor and adoration for Matilde. Also a love affair to the nation of Chile, which Neruda refused to leave during the government overthrow, many of these sonnets speak more of the love of a nation than of a female lover. Each sonnet is truly a work of love by a 20th century poetry giant, which I rate a full five stars.
is a work in four parts, each representing a time of day. Each sonnet is written for Neruda's third wife Matilde Urrutia during the years of 1955-1957. The couple lived together until the poet's death in 1973, and Matilde passed away in 1985. The opening section Manana (Morning) speaks of Neruda's wooing of Maltide and comparing her to the fruits of the earth. He writes of how the "grain grew high in its harvest, in you, in good time the flour swelled; as the dough rose, doubling your breasts, my love was the coal waiting ready in the earth." Employing deeply sensuous language, Neruda in the first thirty three sonnets, hopes and prays that he can woo Matilde to live with him in Isla Negra, his home overlooking the sea in central Chile. With persuasive language, the laureate speaks of his love for his home, using descriptive colors like "seafoam", "orange-and-gasoline rainbow", and "heavenly and sunken blues" in attempts to get Matilde to enter his stunning seaside home.
The two middle sections Mediodia (Afternoon) and Tarde (Evening) describe a deep love between the couple. Sonnet number forty four moved me as the laureate exclaims, "You must know that I do not love and that I love you...I love you in order to begin to love you, to start infinity again, and never stop loving you..." So deep is their love that the language is extremely sensuous and charged with intimate images in each poem. The love flows from these selections, and one can only begin to imagine how deeply the couple care for one another. Sonnet sixty two speaks of the couple's life in Isla Negra with multiple images to kissing and romantic interludes while comparing their love to the "great rain from the South" that falls daily and constantly begins their love anew.
Neruda alludes to how the couple would enjoy eternal love in death in his final section Noche (Night). Sonnet eighty five talks of autumn and nocturnal bodies and how perhaps the couple would be enjoined in an infinite night. I would be remiss if I did not laud the translation by . Noting that North Americans shy away from expressing themselves romantically, Tapscott desired to introduce them to a quality poet and selected Neruda, pointing out that many Americans had already been familiar with the poet's political stance during the fall of the Allende government. With Spanish and English side by side, the English translation is seamless in that none of Neruda's sensuous words diminish in meaning in English. I often found myself reading both the Spanish and English versions of the poems in order to fully appreciate both the depth of Neruda's work and quality of Tapscott's translations.
Awarded the Nobel Prize in 1971 for his life's body of work, is one of 's crowning jewels. Each sonnet is as stunning as the next as the poet fully declares his love for Matilde. In a true labor of love, each of the hundred sonnets is romantically charged, sensuous, and full of enamor and adoration for Matilde. Also a love affair to the nation of Chile, which Neruda refused to leave during the government overthrow, many of these sonnets speak more of the love of a nation than of a female lover. Each sonnet is truly a work of love by a 20th century poetry giant, which I rate a full five stars.
February 3, 2008
When I got tired of copying love poems from the Chinese and Japanese into urgent, wretched note cards to lovers who were unattainable (and I'm a genius at finding unattainable characters to pine after)... that's when I turned to Pablo Neruda. He's even better than Asian poets at crafting throbbing, passionate, wounded phrases of affection:
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrence
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
and:
No one can stop the river of your hands,
your eyes and their sleepiness, my dearest.
You are the trembling of time, which passes
between the vertical light and the darkening sky.
and:
From the stormy archipelagoes I brought
my windy accordian, waves of crazy rain,
the habitual slowness of natural things:
they made up my wild heart.
Imagine for a moment being the unsuspecting recipient of such transcribed scribblings. You thought you were just getting a nice shag, and now you're getting Neruda by notecard, shoved into the mail slot of your door, or left under your windshield wiper at the parking garage. At least I never called in the middle of the night and left Neruda recitations on the answering machine. Okay, maybe I did once. But there had been a great deal of tequila involved.
Not everything he wrote was tortured. Some of it was just beautiful:
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;...
...so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
and:
because love cannot always fly without resting,
our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea:
our kisses head back home where they belong.
and:
By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two
together in their sleep will defeat the darkness
Luckily I got over the phase where I copied tragic poetry into notecards to express my unrequited passions. Now I've moved on to mix CDs. I swear, I'm a caricature even of myself. Emo mommy. Pardon me while I don a pirate blouse and walk moodily across the moors on a stormy day.
Pablo, however, is lovely.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrence
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
and:
No one can stop the river of your hands,
your eyes and their sleepiness, my dearest.
You are the trembling of time, which passes
between the vertical light and the darkening sky.
and:
From the stormy archipelagoes I brought
my windy accordian, waves of crazy rain,
the habitual slowness of natural things:
they made up my wild heart.
Imagine for a moment being the unsuspecting recipient of such transcribed scribblings. You thought you were just getting a nice shag, and now you're getting Neruda by notecard, shoved into the mail slot of your door, or left under your windshield wiper at the parking garage. At least I never called in the middle of the night and left Neruda recitations on the answering machine. Okay, maybe I did once. But there had been a great deal of tequila involved.
Not everything he wrote was tortured. Some of it was just beautiful:
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;...
...so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
and:
because love cannot always fly without resting,
our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea:
our kisses head back home where they belong.
and:
By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two
together in their sleep will defeat the darkness
Luckily I got over the phase where I copied tragic poetry into notecards to express my unrequited passions. Now I've moved on to mix CDs. I swear, I'm a caricature even of myself. Emo mommy. Pardon me while I don a pirate blouse and walk moodily across the moors on a stormy day.
Pablo, however, is lovely.
September 23, 2014
I really sometimes wonder if I love right, love correctly, or if I love at all and am not just miming what I think, what I want, I feel. For me I love all at once, I fall very fast, but rarely. I will go long loveless periods through life, happy and unthinking of what passions I am missing, unenvious of people paired in love, like a bright new boat at sea not thinking at all of the harbor. And suddenly in a lightning flash (un coup de foudre), I am whipped up into a maelstrom of passion and anguish. I am battered on all sides, forced always to maneuver at the helm and can think of nothing else, whatever. I am tormented in waiting out the storm, waiting for the dawn, the exchanged "I love you" or just a sign or symbol of reciprocation. I wait by the telephone, always checking messages, or finding myself reading through old messages. I am mad in love, always. But I think it may be better to be mad than never to feel that madness ever, always to love on a level plane.
What I love in poetry is that it is always, when done right, an attempt at saying what can never be said. Death, love, grief, loss, these things are common material, for what truths can ever be said in language about them? We all feel them every day, but words diminish them. To Love is golden in all its glister, but to speak of love is only to wear gawdy jewelry, paste diamonds and pyrite. It is a poor imitation to describe love, language is an ill-fitted coat for it, it hangs loose and leaves unfitting folds. But poetry, though not all of it, comes close to representing Love. Not every poem, nor maybe even not any whole poem, but lines, phrases, words on the page, somehow strike me and I think "yes, that's just it! that's just the way it is!" And there are a few poets who really strike me as troubadours of love, Love in a meaningful way, meaningful to me. Pablo Neruda (with Edna St. Vincent Millay, and at turns Ronsard, Akhmatova, Plath, Secton, Whitman, sometimes Catullus and Roethke...) stands out as feeling how I feel, writing what I feel abstractly and without words. Many of the sonnets in this collection I do not love, and many I do not like and make me feel nothing. But there are a few which feel infinite to me, which burn in me like my own loves. And my favorite from Neruda, maybe my favorite-ever love poem, "If you forget me" I return to often, maybe every time I feel that pang of love.
Neruda knows, and writes of in his Love Sonnets, that love is an ache. Though love adds an infinitude to life, though it brims over everywhere on everything, it too makes one want more than enough, more than is possible or conceivable. To love someone is to want them so bad and so frequently that you would ruin yourself, like a child over-indulging in sweets. And the worst, the most painful but maybe the most wonderful, too, part of love, is the persistent mystery.
Like in Roland Barthes' Lover's Discourse, I am moved by Neruda's understanding that to love is also to wait.
What I love in poetry is that it is always, when done right, an attempt at saying what can never be said. Death, love, grief, loss, these things are common material, for what truths can ever be said in language about them? We all feel them every day, but words diminish them. To Love is golden in all its glister, but to speak of love is only to wear gawdy jewelry, paste diamonds and pyrite. It is a poor imitation to describe love, language is an ill-fitted coat for it, it hangs loose and leaves unfitting folds. But poetry, though not all of it, comes close to representing Love. Not every poem, nor maybe even not any whole poem, but lines, phrases, words on the page, somehow strike me and I think "yes, that's just it! that's just the way it is!" And there are a few poets who really strike me as troubadours of love, Love in a meaningful way, meaningful to me. Pablo Neruda (with Edna St. Vincent Millay, and at turns Ronsard, Akhmatova, Plath, Secton, Whitman, sometimes Catullus and Roethke...) stands out as feeling how I feel, writing what I feel abstractly and without words. Many of the sonnets in this collection I do not love, and many I do not like and make me feel nothing. But there are a few which feel infinite to me, which burn in me like my own loves. And my favorite from Neruda, maybe my favorite-ever love poem, "If you forget me" I return to often, maybe every time I feel that pang of love.
You know how this is:To me this is what it is to be in love. It is that everything becomes a messenger, a sign, a whisper of Love, even ugly and insignificant things, small things and silly trifles, and also big things that shake you, everything becomes a little boat which carries you off in a flash to that feeling of longing, of loving, of that person which you love which is absent. Time becomes measured in time-with and time-without, and always there is a feeling of lack in the former, and unending excess in the latter.
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists:
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Neruda knows, and writes of in his Love Sonnets, that love is an ache. Though love adds an infinitude to life, though it brims over everywhere on everything, it too makes one want more than enough, more than is possible or conceivable. To love someone is to want them so bad and so frequently that you would ruin yourself, like a child over-indulging in sweets. And the worst, the most painful but maybe the most wonderful, too, part of love, is the persistent mystery.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,To love someone because they are beautiful or kind or generous or smart is an affront to love. While these may spark an initial attraction they are insufficient to inspire love. While attraction may be slave to Love's Dictionary (what is "beauty"? what is "intelligence" or "ambition"?), love is a slave, rather, to it's gesturary. One's love is impinged upon by that smile they wear when you look at them a long time, or the way they carry themselves into the room, or bend over to remove a shoe, or grab a pen and think a moment before writing; it is that flash of confusion on the face when they are surprised, or the tension which builds in their brow when they are stifling despair, or when they are worried and they fidget just a bit. There can be no pride nor complexity in love, because to be in love is to be completely vulnerable to loss. While love adds to everything, it is a constant threat of losing everything, and having to build up from the ruins alone. It is so simple, excruciatingly simple "to love and be loved; to not love nor be loved; to love and not be loved; not to love but be loved" - it is the unnecessary things, the petty superficialities which interfere and threaten love, which make it seem complicated. When the brain and the heart are in discord, when one lies to oneself about what they want, what they love, what they need.
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don鈥檛 know any other way of loving.
Like in Roland Barthes' Lover's Discourse, I am moved by Neruda's understanding that to love is also to wait.
so I wait for you like a lonely houseFor one feels in love that before love their life was an empty house, unlivable. And they maintained it, washed the windows and unclogged the gutters and kept the paint fresh from chipping, but inside it was always empty, perhaps only filled in the corners but subtle things in shadows. But when you are in love, it seems that suddenly all your house is busy with new furniture and decoration for some imminent party, and there are things that you love but don't need, and things which are needed but not loved, and all over there is activity, and everyone (for now there seem so many guests) is thinking of one thing. And when you are with that person you love, it is not the party which you were waiting for, it seems like you are living in the house and it is some anonymous Sunday morning (you drinking your coffee, them reading the paper, feeding the cat), and everything is calm and quiet. But when they leave, there is the rush in the heart to make them stay. Your whole body aches to make them stay for ever, to keep them prisoner. What if they go away and they stop loving you? Your mind is again aflutter with worries and anxieties, and when it is about to give up, it is re-nourished by a fleeting memory of their smile, or a kind word, or an unexpected message. But always the windows ache, and inside the boiler cries.
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache.
November 1, 2017
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadows and soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadows and soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
April 25, 2009
My comment would be: 'written on the wings of butterflies.'
"I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
"I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
June 22, 2018
It was one of those days. The kids flooded the bathroom, the cat vomited on my carpet, a toothbrush got lodged down the drain. One of those It was not a day to start a Sarah Vowell book about the beginnings of Hawaii鈥� No, not today. Today, I grabbed the bottle of Sangria and sat down with this.
Again, I have to thank 欧宝娱乐 for introducing me to (shout out to Bells! Woot! Woot!) who introduced me to Pablo. Imagine living my whole life and not knowing Pablo!! The horror!
There is a reason that middle aged women find abstinent shiny vampires attractive. We are tired. We have lost the inspiration and cling to the notion of everlasting love like spanx. We are what we are. I will admit that I was duped by that Edward. With all his 鈥淒o you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" crap? Yes, we are faulty. We want to hear that stuff. We also want to hear that you loved Duran Duran and that Say Anything was your favorite movie of all time. We clear? Good.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, pouring another glass of Sangria and talking about Pablo. Okay, Pablo with his baldness and his Alfred Hitchcockian body鈥� Pablo would take Edward down. No stake needed, my friend.
Oh, my dearest, I could not love you so!
But when I hold you I hold everything that is---
Sand, time, the tree of the rain,
Everything is alive so that I can be alive
Without moving I can see it all
In your life I see everything that lives.
Hellz to the Yeah! That鈥檚 the stuff! Whoo!! Pablo Pablo he鈥檚 our man! Okay, he鈥檚 Matilda Uruttia鈥檚 man, but eh鈥� semantics. Imagine! 100 love sonnets! For one woman! Swoon. And, it鈥檚 not like you have to look for lines like the one above. It鈥檚 every-frickin鈥�-page. I just fall deeper and deeper. I drink more and my eyes water.
"Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin."
Oh, Eddie鈥� silly you. Give it up. Go away.
This is part of Pablo's dedication: "When I set this task for myself, I knew very well that down the right sides of sonnets, with elegant discriminating taste, poets of all times have arranged rhymes that sound like silver, or crystal, or cannon fire. But--with great humility--I made these sonnets out of wood: I gave them the sound of that opaque pure substance, and this is how they should reach your ears. 鈥� Now that I have declared the foundations of my life, I surrender this century to you: wooden sonnets that rise only because you gave them life.鈥�
Can you imagine living with that? We all crave that crazy new found love feeling, right? Be honest.. There鈥檚 nothing like that rush鈥� but imagine a full grown, fleshed out, downright dedication of life. Suddenly, it鈥檚 not about the adrenaline鈥� it鈥檚 about the stamina.
Pablo divides his sonnets into four sections: Morning, Afternoon, Evening, and Night. And isn鈥檛 that the kicker.. The words so powerful that you feel each time, you age with him, you are his day. Lucky, lucky woman, that Matilda.
Morning:
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
Afternoon:
So that I am like a scorched rock
that suddenly sings when you are near, because it drinks
the water you carry from the forest, in your voice
Evening:
I need the light of your energy,
I looked around, devouring hope.
I watched the void without you that is like a house,
nothing left but tragic windows.
Night:
No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams, you will go,
We will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
Only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.
Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
And let their soft drifting signs drop away;
Your eyes closed like two gray wings, and I move
After, following the folding water you carry, that carries
Me away. The night, the word, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you , I am your dream, only that, and that is all.
It鈥檚 hard to write a review of Pablo without totally quoting Pablo. You have to him, I feel like I鈥檓 cheating with this one. I will end with just this: I hope everyone finds their Pablo鈥� I hope everyone opens their eyes and sees their Pablo.
Again, I have to thank 欧宝娱乐 for introducing me to (shout out to Bells! Woot! Woot!) who introduced me to Pablo. Imagine living my whole life and not knowing Pablo!! The horror!
There is a reason that middle aged women find abstinent shiny vampires attractive. We are tired. We have lost the inspiration and cling to the notion of everlasting love like spanx. We are what we are. I will admit that I was duped by that Edward. With all his 鈥淒o you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" crap? Yes, we are faulty. We want to hear that stuff. We also want to hear that you loved Duran Duran and that Say Anything was your favorite movie of all time. We clear? Good.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, pouring another glass of Sangria and talking about Pablo. Okay, Pablo with his baldness and his Alfred Hitchcockian body鈥� Pablo would take Edward down. No stake needed, my friend.
Oh, my dearest, I could not love you so!
But when I hold you I hold everything that is---
Sand, time, the tree of the rain,
Everything is alive so that I can be alive
Without moving I can see it all
In your life I see everything that lives.
Hellz to the Yeah! That鈥檚 the stuff! Whoo!! Pablo Pablo he鈥檚 our man! Okay, he鈥檚 Matilda Uruttia鈥檚 man, but eh鈥� semantics. Imagine! 100 love sonnets! For one woman! Swoon. And, it鈥檚 not like you have to look for lines like the one above. It鈥檚 every-frickin鈥�-page. I just fall deeper and deeper. I drink more and my eyes water.
"Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin."
Oh, Eddie鈥� silly you. Give it up. Go away.
This is part of Pablo's dedication: "When I set this task for myself, I knew very well that down the right sides of sonnets, with elegant discriminating taste, poets of all times have arranged rhymes that sound like silver, or crystal, or cannon fire. But--with great humility--I made these sonnets out of wood: I gave them the sound of that opaque pure substance, and this is how they should reach your ears. 鈥� Now that I have declared the foundations of my life, I surrender this century to you: wooden sonnets that rise only because you gave them life.鈥�
Can you imagine living with that? We all crave that crazy new found love feeling, right? Be honest.. There鈥檚 nothing like that rush鈥� but imagine a full grown, fleshed out, downright dedication of life. Suddenly, it鈥檚 not about the adrenaline鈥� it鈥檚 about the stamina.
Pablo divides his sonnets into four sections: Morning, Afternoon, Evening, and Night. And isn鈥檛 that the kicker.. The words so powerful that you feel each time, you age with him, you are his day. Lucky, lucky woman, that Matilda.
Morning:
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
Afternoon:
So that I am like a scorched rock
that suddenly sings when you are near, because it drinks
the water you carry from the forest, in your voice
Evening:
I need the light of your energy,
I looked around, devouring hope.
I watched the void without you that is like a house,
nothing left but tragic windows.
Night:
No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams, you will go,
We will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
Only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.
Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
And let their soft drifting signs drop away;
Your eyes closed like two gray wings, and I move
After, following the folding water you carry, that carries
Me away. The night, the word, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you , I am your dream, only that, and that is all.
It鈥檚 hard to write a review of Pablo without totally quoting Pablo. You have to him, I feel like I鈥檓 cheating with this one. I will end with just this: I hope everyone finds their Pablo鈥� I hope everyone opens their eyes and sees their Pablo.
May 18, 2022
This is my favorite poet. The poems are beautifull. I recommend this book very highly.
March 23, 2021
''螕蔚渭维蟿畏 胃位委蠄畏 伪纬谓萎 伪纬蟻慰喂魏维 畏 蟽蟿苇纬畏
尾蟻慰蠂苇蟼 蟺伪谓维蟻蠂伪喂蔚蟼 尉苇蠁蠀位位蔚蟼 谓伪 蟺苇蠁蟿慰蠀谓,
蠁蟿蔚蟻维 魏喂 蠈,蟿喂 苇蠂蔚喂 畏 谓蠉蠂蟿伪 蠁蠀位伪魏委蟽蔚喂:
魏喂 苇蟿蟽喂 蟽蔚 魏伪蟻蟿蔚蟻蠋 蟽伪谓 苇蟻渭慰 蟽蟺委蟿喂
谓伪 纬蠀蟻委蟽蔚喂蟼 魏伪喂 谓伪 渭蔚 魏伪蟿慰喂魏萎蟽蔚喂蟼.
螒位位喂蠋蟼 蟿伪 蟺伪蟻伪胃蠉蟻喂伪 渭蔚 蟺慰谓维谓蔚''.
尾蟻慰蠂苇蟼 蟺伪谓维蟻蠂伪喂蔚蟼 尉苇蠁蠀位位蔚蟼 谓伪 蟺苇蠁蟿慰蠀谓,
蠁蟿蔚蟻维 魏喂 蠈,蟿喂 苇蠂蔚喂 畏 谓蠉蠂蟿伪 蠁蠀位伪魏委蟽蔚喂:
魏喂 苇蟿蟽喂 蟽蔚 魏伪蟻蟿蔚蟻蠋 蟽伪谓 苇蟻渭慰 蟽蟺委蟿喂
谓伪 纬蠀蟻委蟽蔚喂蟼 魏伪喂 谓伪 渭蔚 魏伪蟿慰喂魏萎蟽蔚喂蟼.
螒位位喂蠋蟼 蟿伪 蟺伪蟻伪胃蠉蟻喂伪 渭蔚 蟺慰谓维谓蔚''.
October 7, 2017
危' 伪纬伪蟺蠋 魏伪胃蠋蟼 魏维蟺慰喂慰 蠁蠀蟿蠈 蟺慰蠀 未蔚谓 伪谓胃委味蔚喂,
渭伪 蟺慰蠀 渭苇蟽伪 蟿慰蠀 魏蟻蠉尾蔚喂 蟿慰 位慰蠀位慰蠀未蠈蠁蠅蟼 蠈位慰,
魏伪喂 味蔚喂 伪蟺' 蟿慰谓 苇蟻蠅蟿伪 蟽慰蠀 蟽魏慰蟿蔚喂谓蠈 蟽蟿慰 魏慰蟻渭委 渭慰蠀
蟿' 维蟻蠅渭伪 蟺慰蠀 蟽蠁喂纬渭苇谓慰 渭' 伪谓苇尾畏魏蔚 伪蟺' 蟿慰 蠂蠋渭伪.
危' 伪纬伪蟺蠋 渭畏 纬谓蠅蟻委味慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟺蠅蟼, 伪蟺蠈 蟺慰蠀 魏伪喂 蟺蠈蟿蔚,
蟽' 伪纬伪蟺蠋 蟽蟿伪 委蟽喂伪 未委蠂蠅蟼 蟺蟻蠈尾位畏渭伪 萎 蟺蔚蟻畏蠁维谓喂伪 :
蟽' 伪纬伪蟺蠋 苇蟿蟽喂 纬喂伪蟿委 未蔚谓 尉苇蟻蠅 渭' 维位位慰谓 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰,
蟺伪蟻维 渭' 蔚蟿慰蠉蟿慰谓 蠈蟺慰蠀 未蔚谓 蔚委渭伪喂 渭萎蟿蔚 蔚委蟽伪喂,
蟺慰蠀 蟿慰 蠂苇蟻喂 蟽慰蠀 蟺维谓蠅 渭慰蠀 蟿慰 谓喂蠋胃蠅 蟽伪 未喂魏蠈 渭慰蠀,
蟺慰蠀 蠈蟿伪谓 魏慰喂渭维渭伪喂 魏位蔚委谓慰蠀谓 魏伪喂 蟿伪 未喂魏维 蟽慰蠀 渭维蟿喂伪.
渭伪 蟺慰蠀 渭苇蟽伪 蟿慰蠀 魏蟻蠉尾蔚喂 蟿慰 位慰蠀位慰蠀未蠈蠁蠅蟼 蠈位慰,
魏伪喂 味蔚喂 伪蟺' 蟿慰谓 苇蟻蠅蟿伪 蟽慰蠀 蟽魏慰蟿蔚喂谓蠈 蟽蟿慰 魏慰蟻渭委 渭慰蠀
蟿' 维蟻蠅渭伪 蟺慰蠀 蟽蠁喂纬渭苇谓慰 渭' 伪谓苇尾畏魏蔚 伪蟺' 蟿慰 蠂蠋渭伪.
危' 伪纬伪蟺蠋 渭畏 纬谓蠅蟻委味慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟺蠅蟼, 伪蟺蠈 蟺慰蠀 魏伪喂 蟺蠈蟿蔚,
蟽' 伪纬伪蟺蠋 蟽蟿伪 委蟽喂伪 未委蠂蠅蟼 蟺蟻蠈尾位畏渭伪 萎 蟺蔚蟻畏蠁维谓喂伪 :
蟽' 伪纬伪蟺蠋 苇蟿蟽喂 纬喂伪蟿委 未蔚谓 尉苇蟻蠅 渭' 维位位慰谓 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰,
蟺伪蟻维 渭' 蔚蟿慰蠉蟿慰谓 蠈蟺慰蠀 未蔚谓 蔚委渭伪喂 渭萎蟿蔚 蔚委蟽伪喂,
蟺慰蠀 蟿慰 蠂苇蟻喂 蟽慰蠀 蟺维谓蠅 渭慰蠀 蟿慰 谓喂蠋胃蠅 蟽伪 未喂魏蠈 渭慰蠀,
蟺慰蠀 蠈蟿伪谓 魏慰喂渭维渭伪喂 魏位蔚委谓慰蠀谓 魏伪喂 蟿伪 未喂魏维 蟽慰蠀 渭维蟿喂伪.
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March 23, 2020"危 伪纬伪蟺蠋 渭畏 纬谓蠅蟻委味慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟺蠅蟼, 伪蟺蠈 蟺慰蠀 魏伪喂 蟺慰蟿蔚,
蟽 伪纬伪蟺蠋 蟽蟿伪 委蟽喂伪 未委蠂蠅蟼 蟺蟻慰尾萎渭伪蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟺蔚蟻畏蠁维谓喂伪:
蟽 伪纬伪蟺蠋 苇蟿蟽喂 纬喂伪蟿委 未蔚谓 尉锟斤拷蟻蠅 渭蔚 伪位位慰 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰,
蟺伪蟻维 渭'蔚蟿慰蠉蟿慰谓 蠈蟺慰蠀 未蔚谓 蔚委渭伪喂 渭萎蟿蔚 蔚委蟽伪喂,
蟺慰蠀 蟿慰 蠂苇蟻喂 蟽慰蠀 蟺维谓蠅 渭慰蠀 蟿慰 谓喂蠋胃蠅 蟽伪 未喂魏蠈 渭慰蠀,
蟺慰蠀 蠈蟿伪谓 魏慰喂渭维渭伪喂 魏位蔚委谓慰蠀谓 魏伪喂 蟿伪 未喂魏维 蟽慰蠀 渭维蟿喂伪."
蟽 伪纬伪蟺蠋 蟽蟿伪 委蟽喂伪 未委蠂蠅蟼 蟺蟻慰尾萎渭伪蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟺蔚蟻畏蠁维谓喂伪:
蟽 伪纬伪蟺蠋 苇蟿蟽喂 纬喂伪蟿委 未蔚谓 尉锟斤拷蟻蠅 渭蔚 伪位位慰 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰,
蟺伪蟻维 渭'蔚蟿慰蠉蟿慰谓 蠈蟺慰蠀 未蔚谓 蔚委渭伪喂 渭萎蟿蔚 蔚委蟽伪喂,
蟺慰蠀 蟿慰 蠂苇蟻喂 蟽慰蠀 蟺维谓蠅 渭慰蠀 蟿慰 谓喂蠋胃蠅 蟽伪 未喂魏蠈 渭慰蠀,
蟺慰蠀 蠈蟿伪谓 魏慰喂渭维渭伪喂 魏位蔚委谓慰蠀谓 魏伪喂 蟿伪 未喂魏维 蟽慰蠀 渭维蟿喂伪."
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February 18, 202310/10
I have been consuming poetry in the last few months at an inordinate rate. I enter phases -- cycles in my life where it's easier to read poetry than prose; more importantly, where my life demands poetry more than it does prose. It's silly, in that context, to add long passages of my boring prose to describe what Neruda does perfectly in poems. All I can add is, if you haven't read Neruda, or haven't read him lately, do your soul a favour and pick up this little book, even if you borrow it from the library, and go sit quietly for an hour.
How many times, love, I loved you without seeing you
and maybe without recollection,
not recognizing your glance, not looking at you, a centaur,
in adverse regions, in a burning midday:
you were just the scent of grains I love.
Perhaps I saw you, I imagined you in passing lifting a glass
in Angol, by the light of the moon in June,
or you were the waist of that guitar
I played in the darkness, and it sounded like the excessive seas.
I loved you without knowing it, and I looked for your memory.
In the empty houses I entered with a lantern to steal your portrait.
But I already knew how you were. Suddenly
while you were there with me I touched you and my life stopped:
before my eyes you were, ruling me, and you reign.
Like a bonfire in the forests, fire is your kingdom.
````````````````
Cu谩ntas veces, amor, te am茅 sin verte y tal vez sin recuerdo,
sin reconocer tu mirada, sin mirarte, centaura
en regiones contrarias, en un mediod铆a quemante:
eras s贸lo el aroma de los cereales que amo.
Tal vez te vi, te supuse al pasar levantando una copa
en Angol, a la luz de la luna de junio,
o eras t煤 la cintura de aquella guitarra
que toqu茅 en las tinieblas y son贸 como el mar desmedido.
Te am茅 sin que yo lo supiera, y busqu茅 tu memoria.
En las casas vac铆as entr茅 con linterna a robar tu retrato.
Pero yo ya sab铆a c贸mo era. De pronto
mientras ibas conmigo te toqu茅 y se detuvo mi vida:
frente a mis ojos estabas, rein谩ndome, y reinas.
Como hoguera en los bosques el fuego es tu reino.
````````````````````
PS This is a lovely edition which includes paintings by Gabriela Campos.
I have been consuming poetry in the last few months at an inordinate rate. I enter phases -- cycles in my life where it's easier to read poetry than prose; more importantly, where my life demands poetry more than it does prose. It's silly, in that context, to add long passages of my boring prose to describe what Neruda does perfectly in poems. All I can add is, if you haven't read Neruda, or haven't read him lately, do your soul a favour and pick up this little book, even if you borrow it from the library, and go sit quietly for an hour.
How many times, love, I loved you without seeing you
and maybe without recollection,
not recognizing your glance, not looking at you, a centaur,
in adverse regions, in a burning midday:
you were just the scent of grains I love.
Perhaps I saw you, I imagined you in passing lifting a glass
in Angol, by the light of the moon in June,
or you were the waist of that guitar
I played in the darkness, and it sounded like the excessive seas.
I loved you without knowing it, and I looked for your memory.
In the empty houses I entered with a lantern to steal your portrait.
But I already knew how you were. Suddenly
while you were there with me I touched you and my life stopped:
before my eyes you were, ruling me, and you reign.
Like a bonfire in the forests, fire is your kingdom.
````````````````
Cu谩ntas veces, amor, te am茅 sin verte y tal vez sin recuerdo,
sin reconocer tu mirada, sin mirarte, centaura
en regiones contrarias, en un mediod铆a quemante:
eras s贸lo el aroma de los cereales que amo.
Tal vez te vi, te supuse al pasar levantando una copa
en Angol, a la luz de la luna de junio,
o eras t煤 la cintura de aquella guitarra
que toqu茅 en las tinieblas y son贸 como el mar desmedido.
Te am茅 sin que yo lo supiera, y busqu茅 tu memoria.
En las casas vac铆as entr茅 con linterna a robar tu retrato.
Pero yo ya sab铆a c贸mo era. De pronto
mientras ibas conmigo te toqu茅 y se detuvo mi vida:
frente a mis ojos estabas, rein谩ndome, y reinas.
Como hoguera en los bosques el fuego es tu reino.
````````````````````
PS This is a lovely edition which includes paintings by Gabriela Campos.
July 23, 2015
5 Stunning Stars
I was utterly swept away by the beauty of these love sonnets.
Someone had sent me a quote from one of them, I fell in love with it...and just had to read more....
How...
I am to have the pleasure of reading, such stunning words.
I was utterly swept away by the beauty of these love sonnets.
Someone had sent me a quote from one of them, I fell in love with it...and just had to read more....
I love you without knowing how, or when,
or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without
complexities or pride
so I love you because I know no other way than this
where I does not exist, nor you
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
How...
I am to have the pleasure of reading, such stunning words.
April 13, 2020
I made these sonnets out of wood; I gave them the sound of that opaque pure substance, and that is how they should reach your ears. Walking in forests or on beaches, along hidden lakes, in latitudes sprinkled with ashes, you and I have picked up pieces of pure bark, pieces of wood subject to the comings and goings of water and the weather. Out of such softened relics, then, with hatchet and machete and pocketknife, I built up these lumber piles of love, and with fourteen boards each I built little houses, so that your eyes, which I adore and sing to, might live in them. Now that I have declared the foundations of my love, I surrender this century to you: wooden sonnets that rise only because you gave them life.
*
Whoever loved as we did? Let us hunt
for the ancient cinders of a heart that burned
and make our kisses fall one by one,
till that empty flower rises again.
Let us love the love that consumed its fruit and went
down, its image and its power, into the earth:
you and I are the light that endures,
its irrevocable delicate thorn.
Bring to that love, entombed by so much cold time,
by snow and spring, by oblivion and autumn,
the light of a new apple, light
of a freshness opened by a new wound,
like that ancient love that passes in silence
through an eternity of buried mouths.
*
Whoever loved as we did? Let us hunt
for the ancient cinders of a heart that burned
and make our kisses fall one by one,
till that empty flower rises again.
Let us love the love that consumed its fruit and went
down, its image and its power, into the earth:
you and I are the light that endures,
its irrevocable delicate thorn.
Bring to that love, entombed by so much cold time,
by snow and spring, by oblivion and autumn,
the light of a new apple, light
of a freshness opened by a new wound,
like that ancient love that passes in silence
through an eternity of buried mouths.
November 27, 2007
and to me she quoted him...
"no one else, love, will sleep in my dreams. you will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
no one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon."
thus, i knew for sure.
"no one else, love, will sleep in my dreams. you will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
no one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon."
thus, i knew for sure.
March 28, 2023
惭补帽补苍补
XXV
Antes de amarte, amor, nada era m铆o:
Vacil茅 por las calles y las cosas:
Nada contaba ni ten铆a nombre:
El mundo era del aire que esperaba
惭别诲颈辞诲铆补
XL
Era verde el silencio, mojada era la luz,
temblaba el mes de junio como una mariposa
y en el austral dominio, desde el mar y las piedras,
Matilde, atravesaste el mediod铆a.
Tarde
LXVI
No te quiero sino porque te quiero
y de quererte a no quererte llego
y de esperarte cuando no te espero
Pasa mi coraz贸n del fr铆o al fuego.
Noche
XCV
Qui茅nes se amaron como nosotros? Busquemos
la antiguas cenizas del coraz贸n quemado
y all铆 que caigan uno por uno nuestros besos
Hasta que resucite la flor deshabilitada.
The Chilean poet Pablo Neruda (1904-1971) wrote 鈥渆stos mal llamados鈥� (these badly called) sonnets to Matilde Urrutia in 1959. They had met in 1946 and over the years became lovers. Neruda built a house for her in Santiago and she became his third wife in 1966.
Divided into the four parts of the day, Neruda extols his love, the good and bad, the longing, the ups and downs, the storms and the calm. Beautiful, fine words.
For all that it鈥檚 worth, all I can say is that the man sure loved his lover.
XXV
Antes de amarte, amor, nada era m铆o:
Vacil茅 por las calles y las cosas:
Nada contaba ni ten铆a nombre:
El mundo era del aire que esperaba
惭别诲颈辞诲铆补
XL
Era verde el silencio, mojada era la luz,
temblaba el mes de junio como una mariposa
y en el austral dominio, desde el mar y las piedras,
Matilde, atravesaste el mediod铆a.
Tarde
LXVI
No te quiero sino porque te quiero
y de quererte a no quererte llego
y de esperarte cuando no te espero
Pasa mi coraz贸n del fr铆o al fuego.
Noche
XCV
Qui茅nes se amaron como nosotros? Busquemos
la antiguas cenizas del coraz贸n quemado
y all铆 que caigan uno por uno nuestros besos
Hasta que resucite la flor deshabilitada.
The Chilean poet Pablo Neruda (1904-1971) wrote 鈥渆stos mal llamados鈥� (these badly called) sonnets to Matilde Urrutia in 1959. They had met in 1946 and over the years became lovers. Neruda built a house for her in Santiago and she became his third wife in 1966.
Divided into the four parts of the day, Neruda extols his love, the good and bad, the longing, the ups and downs, the storms and the calm. Beautiful, fine words.
For all that it鈥檚 worth, all I can say is that the man sure loved his lover.
March 2, 2022
"Y cuando est茅 reci茅n lavado el mundo
nacer谩n otros ojos en el agua
y crecer谩 sin l谩grimas el trigo."
The first time I read this collection in its entirety, I was wonderstruck by Sonnet XVI, "Amo el trozo de tierra que t煤 eres," which I learnt to love with even more intensity once I became able to appreciate the original Spanish version and which remains my absolute favourite. In these scary times, I felt it was time for me for me to finally sit down and reread methodically all One Hundred of Neruda's love sonnets (I took on a habit of occasionally picking the volume up and rereading a poem or two a time through the years). I rediscovered many favourites, and experienced these poems with an involvement that perhaps wasn't possible when I was younger.
鈥斺赌斺赌斺赌�
- Original 2014 review/commento alla prima lettura del 2014
芦Amo il pezzo di terra che tu sei,
perch茅 delle praterie planetarie
altra stella non ho.禄
Non si pu貌 fare a meno di tremare di fronte a una visione dell'amore come quella di Neruda: totalizzante. Nei suoi versi, il sentimento (che parola riduttiva, quando posta accanto all'intensit脿 di Neruda) amoroso diventa soverchiante, inebriante, conquistatore, 猫 panico perch茅 diventa tutto: terra, cielo, mare, 芦colomba e geografia禄. E il lettore amante non pu貌 far altro che chiudere gli occhi e inchinarsi.
nacer谩n otros ojos en el agua
y crecer谩 sin l谩grimas el trigo."
The first time I read this collection in its entirety, I was wonderstruck by Sonnet XVI, "Amo el trozo de tierra que t煤 eres," which I learnt to love with even more intensity once I became able to appreciate the original Spanish version and which remains my absolute favourite. In these scary times, I felt it was time for me for me to finally sit down and reread methodically all One Hundred of Neruda's love sonnets (I took on a habit of occasionally picking the volume up and rereading a poem or two a time through the years). I rediscovered many favourites, and experienced these poems with an involvement that perhaps wasn't possible when I was younger.
鈥斺赌斺赌斺赌�
- Original 2014 review/commento alla prima lettura del 2014
芦Amo il pezzo di terra che tu sei,
perch茅 delle praterie planetarie
altra stella non ho.禄
Non si pu貌 fare a meno di tremare di fronte a una visione dell'amore come quella di Neruda: totalizzante. Nei suoi versi, il sentimento (che parola riduttiva, quando posta accanto all'intensit脿 di Neruda) amoroso diventa soverchiante, inebriante, conquistatore, 猫 panico perch茅 diventa tutto: terra, cielo, mare, 芦colomba e geografia禄. E il lettore amante non pu貌 far altro che chiudere gli occhi e inchinarsi.
April 22, 2020
"螝喂 伪蠀蟿萎 畏 蠁慰蟻维 萎蟿伪谓 蟽伪谓 蟺慰蟿苇 魏伪喂 蟺维谓蟿伪:
蟺维渭蔚 蔚魏蔚委 蟺慰蠀 未蔚谓 蟺蔚蟻喂渭苇谓蔚喂 蟿委蟺慰蟿伪
魏伪喂 胃伪 尾蟻慰蠉渭蔚 慰位' 伪蠀蟿维 蟺慰蠀 蟺蔚蟻喂渭苇谓慰蠀谓."
蟺维渭蔚 蔚魏蔚委 蟺慰蠀 未蔚谓 蟺蔚蟻喂渭苇谓蔚喂 蟿委蟺慰蟿伪
魏伪喂 胃伪 尾蟻慰蠉渭蔚 慰位' 伪蠀蟿维 蟺慰蠀 蟺蔚蟻喂渭苇谓慰蠀谓."
October 24, 2021
螖蔚谓 尉苇蟻蠅 蟿喂 谓伪 蟺蠅 纬喂 伪蠀蟿维 蟿伪 蟺慰喂萎渭伪蟿伪, 蔚魏蟿蠈蟼 伪蟺慰 蟿慰 蟺慰蟽蠈 蠀蟺苇蟻慰蠂畏 纬蠀谓伪委魏伪 蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂 谓伪 萎蟿伪谓 畏 螠伪蟿委位谓蟿蔚 魏伪喂 蟺蠈蟽慰 尾伪胃喂维 蟿畏谓 伪纬伪蟺慰蠉蟽蔚 慰 螡蔚蟻慰蠉未伪...
July 4, 2010
#2010-16#
Sepotong hari di bukit ilalang
Pagi,...
Rintik gerimis udara dingin, inginkan satu pelukan hangat kekasih. Terbangun dengan satu ciuman di kening, sementara di luar hujan. Kuambil gaun musim panasku dan berjalan ke pintu, memandang hujan rintik halus yang indah, dan berkata kepadanya,
Aku mencintaimu tanpa tahu bagaimana, atau kapan, atau dari mana.
Aku mencintaimu dengan lugas, tanpa banyak soal atau rasa bangga;
begitulah aku mencintaimu sebab aku tak tahu jalan lain. (XVII)
Kulangkahkan kaki ke tepi beranda rumah putih, tempat ayunan tergantung menanti bergoyang. Kutahu akan tertidur di sini dengan desau angin yang melintas ketika hujan reda nanti.
Senja,...
Kemerahan, datanglah hampir tenggelam. Berlari kecil ke dermaga danau, hujan reda menyisakan wangi rumput basah yang diinjak tapak kaki.
Aku duduk bersandar pada satu tiang dermaga, pelepah daun kelapa mengambang di danau. Damai. Hanya beberapa burung melintas dengan bayangan yang terpantul di air. Hembusan angin memberi suara pada kemerisik tanaman tropis di ujung danau.
Ya: siang hari meretih seperti api, atau laksana kawanan lebah
melaju dengan karyanya yang hijau, mengubur dirinya di dedaunan:
sampai di pucuk daun merengkuh
buana gemilang yang berkedipan dan berbisikan.(XLII)
Lalu kulihat sepasang merpati yang sedang bercanda, seolah bersapa minta pengertian sebelum mereka terbang dipeluk angkasa,
Cintaku mempunyai dua kehidupan, untuk mencintaimu;
sebab itulah aku mencintaimu ketika aku tak mencintaimu
dan pula mengapa aku mencintaimu ketika aku mencintaimu.(XLIV)
Kulempar batu ke danau yang memantulkan cahaya langit. Biru di langit, biru di danau. Kelam di langit, kelam juga di danau.
Langit melipatkan sesayapmu ke atasmu,
mengangkatmu, membantunmu ke pelukanku
dengan rasa hormat yang misterius dan tepat waktu.(XLIX)
Petang,...
Kuberlari menuju hutan. Mengejar pelangi yang jatuh di ujungnya. Tak kuhiraukan luka di kaki yang melambatkan lajuku. Gaun yang tadi halus kini sedikit koyak. Hujan turun dengan deras, diiringi petir dan guntur bertalu-talu. Dimana ia? Aku kehilangan pelangi yang tidak muncul lagi. Apakah ini ilusi? Aku terduduk di batang tua, sambil mengusap hujan yang menetesi muka.
Mereka yang ingin melukaiku telah melukaimu,
dan setangkup racun rahasia untukku
bagaikan jaring yang berlalu lewat kerjaku - tapi meninggalkan
noda berkarat dan resah padamu.(LX)
Kemana dia? Apa dia pergi dengan yang lain? Kenapa tak kutemukan di sini di dalam hutan ini? Aku berlari memanggil namanya. Luka kakiku tak kuhiraukan. Badanku basah, aku kedinginan.
api. Aku mencintaimu hanya karena engkaulah
yang kucintai; aku membencimu tanpa akhir, dan membencimu
menikung ke arahmu, dan ukuran dari cintaku yang berubah-ubah untukmu
adalah bahwa aku tak bisa memandangmu namun mencintaimu.(LXV)
Lalu aku melihat bayangannya. Bukan pelangi, namun cahaya yang lebih terang. Aku berlari ke arahnya dan jatuh dalam pelukannya. Aku rindu sekali padanya. Mudah-mudahan ini nyata, bukan hanya bayangan semu yang kukejar.
sejak itu aku adalah aku karena engkau adalah engkau,
sejak itu engkau adalah engkau, aku adalah aku, kita adalah kita
dan melalui cinta aku jadi aku, engkau jadi engkau, kita jadi kita. (LXIX)
Lalu kita saling bertatap dan menuntun jalan menuju pulang. Kita bergandengan dalam sosok tubuh manja, merapatkan dan saling melindungi.
Kemudian cinta tahu mesti dipanggil cinta
Dan ketika aku mengalihkan mataku ke namamu,
tiba-tiba hatimu menunjukkan jalanku. (LXXIII)
Malam,...
Desir angin melambaikan tirai. Waktu serasa berhenti ketika kau memelukku. Hujan sudah mulai reda, dan perapian masih hangat. Gelegar petir terkadang memecah suasana. Namun kau tetap dalam diammu, di belakangku dan berbisik,
Aku ingin engkau hidup selagi aku menunggumu, mengantuk.
Aku ingin telingamu masih mendengar angin, aku ingin kau
menghirup aroma laut yang kita cintai bersama,
terus berjalan di pasir bak sediakala saat kita berjalan berdua.(LXXXIX)
Aku berjingkat, berbalik dan memandangnya. Kuletakkan telunjuk di bibirnya, untuk tidak berkata apa-apa lagi. Kusibakkan rambutnya, menatap kedalaman matanya, lekat-lekat,
Biarlah kita mencintai dengan cinta yang melahap buahnya dan
rontok, bayangnya dan kuasanya, ke ribaan bumi:
kau dan aku adalah cahaya yang bertahan,
dengan duri menyenangkan yang tak bisa ditarik lagi. (XCV)
Kami berdua memandang langit. Hujan baru saja reda. Tinggal bintang-bintang...
***
Tiga setengah bintang karena terjemahan. Ada angin apa ya nulis kayak di atas? fui.. siul-siul dulu aah..
Sepotong hari di bukit ilalang
Pagi,...
Rintik gerimis udara dingin, inginkan satu pelukan hangat kekasih. Terbangun dengan satu ciuman di kening, sementara di luar hujan. Kuambil gaun musim panasku dan berjalan ke pintu, memandang hujan rintik halus yang indah, dan berkata kepadanya,
Aku mencintaimu tanpa tahu bagaimana, atau kapan, atau dari mana.
Aku mencintaimu dengan lugas, tanpa banyak soal atau rasa bangga;
begitulah aku mencintaimu sebab aku tak tahu jalan lain. (XVII)
Kulangkahkan kaki ke tepi beranda rumah putih, tempat ayunan tergantung menanti bergoyang. Kutahu akan tertidur di sini dengan desau angin yang melintas ketika hujan reda nanti.
Senja,...
Kemerahan, datanglah hampir tenggelam. Berlari kecil ke dermaga danau, hujan reda menyisakan wangi rumput basah yang diinjak tapak kaki.
Aku duduk bersandar pada satu tiang dermaga, pelepah daun kelapa mengambang di danau. Damai. Hanya beberapa burung melintas dengan bayangan yang terpantul di air. Hembusan angin memberi suara pada kemerisik tanaman tropis di ujung danau.
Ya: siang hari meretih seperti api, atau laksana kawanan lebah
melaju dengan karyanya yang hijau, mengubur dirinya di dedaunan:
sampai di pucuk daun merengkuh
buana gemilang yang berkedipan dan berbisikan.(XLII)
Lalu kulihat sepasang merpati yang sedang bercanda, seolah bersapa minta pengertian sebelum mereka terbang dipeluk angkasa,
Cintaku mempunyai dua kehidupan, untuk mencintaimu;
sebab itulah aku mencintaimu ketika aku tak mencintaimu
dan pula mengapa aku mencintaimu ketika aku mencintaimu.(XLIV)
Kulempar batu ke danau yang memantulkan cahaya langit. Biru di langit, biru di danau. Kelam di langit, kelam juga di danau.
Langit melipatkan sesayapmu ke atasmu,
mengangkatmu, membantunmu ke pelukanku
dengan rasa hormat yang misterius dan tepat waktu.(XLIX)
Petang,...
Kuberlari menuju hutan. Mengejar pelangi yang jatuh di ujungnya. Tak kuhiraukan luka di kaki yang melambatkan lajuku. Gaun yang tadi halus kini sedikit koyak. Hujan turun dengan deras, diiringi petir dan guntur bertalu-talu. Dimana ia? Aku kehilangan pelangi yang tidak muncul lagi. Apakah ini ilusi? Aku terduduk di batang tua, sambil mengusap hujan yang menetesi muka.
Mereka yang ingin melukaiku telah melukaimu,
dan setangkup racun rahasia untukku
bagaikan jaring yang berlalu lewat kerjaku - tapi meninggalkan
noda berkarat dan resah padamu.(LX)
Kemana dia? Apa dia pergi dengan yang lain? Kenapa tak kutemukan di sini di dalam hutan ini? Aku berlari memanggil namanya. Luka kakiku tak kuhiraukan. Badanku basah, aku kedinginan.
api. Aku mencintaimu hanya karena engkaulah
yang kucintai; aku membencimu tanpa akhir, dan membencimu
menikung ke arahmu, dan ukuran dari cintaku yang berubah-ubah untukmu
adalah bahwa aku tak bisa memandangmu namun mencintaimu.(LXV)
Lalu aku melihat bayangannya. Bukan pelangi, namun cahaya yang lebih terang. Aku berlari ke arahnya dan jatuh dalam pelukannya. Aku rindu sekali padanya. Mudah-mudahan ini nyata, bukan hanya bayangan semu yang kukejar.
sejak itu aku adalah aku karena engkau adalah engkau,
sejak itu engkau adalah engkau, aku adalah aku, kita adalah kita
dan melalui cinta aku jadi aku, engkau jadi engkau, kita jadi kita. (LXIX)
Lalu kita saling bertatap dan menuntun jalan menuju pulang. Kita bergandengan dalam sosok tubuh manja, merapatkan dan saling melindungi.
Kemudian cinta tahu mesti dipanggil cinta
Dan ketika aku mengalihkan mataku ke namamu,
tiba-tiba hatimu menunjukkan jalanku. (LXXIII)
Malam,...
Desir angin melambaikan tirai. Waktu serasa berhenti ketika kau memelukku. Hujan sudah mulai reda, dan perapian masih hangat. Gelegar petir terkadang memecah suasana. Namun kau tetap dalam diammu, di belakangku dan berbisik,
Aku ingin engkau hidup selagi aku menunggumu, mengantuk.
Aku ingin telingamu masih mendengar angin, aku ingin kau
menghirup aroma laut yang kita cintai bersama,
terus berjalan di pasir bak sediakala saat kita berjalan berdua.(LXXXIX)
Aku berjingkat, berbalik dan memandangnya. Kuletakkan telunjuk di bibirnya, untuk tidak berkata apa-apa lagi. Kusibakkan rambutnya, menatap kedalaman matanya, lekat-lekat,
Biarlah kita mencintai dengan cinta yang melahap buahnya dan
rontok, bayangnya dan kuasanya, ke ribaan bumi:
kau dan aku adalah cahaya yang bertahan,
dengan duri menyenangkan yang tak bisa ditarik lagi. (XCV)
Kami berdua memandang langit. Hujan baru saja reda. Tinggal bintang-bintang...
***
Tiga setengah bintang karena terjemahan. Ada angin apa ya nulis kayak di atas? fui.. siul-siul dulu aah..
August 24, 2022
Conhecia a poesia de Pablo Neruda atrav茅s de v铆deos no youtube. Apaixonei-me pelo poema "Te amo" e mas tarde li a sua autobiografia. Fiquei absolutamente encantada com todo o que este escritor viveu. Deve ter sido uma pessoa maravilhosa....
Estes sonetos descrevem v谩rios tipos de amor. N茫o apenas o carnal. H谩 o amor puro, o amor amigo, o amor pela natureza, o amor pelo universo, o amor pelo seu pa铆s, entre outros. Os meus preferidos s茫o aqueles que ele escreve para a sua amada. Li no original. A l铆ngua espanhola 茅 t茫o bela. E s贸 daquelas pessoas que considera que a poesia traduzida perde as suas sensa莽玫es.
Estes sonetos descrevem v谩rios tipos de amor. N茫o apenas o carnal. H谩 o amor puro, o amor amigo, o amor pela natureza, o amor pelo universo, o amor pelo seu pa铆s, entre outros. Os meus preferidos s茫o aqueles que ele escreve para a sua amada. Li no original. A l铆ngua espanhola 茅 t茫o bela. E s贸 daquelas pessoas que considera que a poesia traduzida perde as suas sensa莽玫es.
October 13, 2021
鈥� 亘賴 毓夭丕蹖賲 賲賳卮蹖賳:
毓卮賯 賲賳!
丿乇 乇賳噩鬲 丕诏乇 亘亘蹖賳賲
亘乇丕蹖 丿賵賲蹖賳 亘丕乇 禺賵丕賴賲 賲購乇丿.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 亘蹖鈥屫�:
亘蹖鈥屫�
賴乇丌賳趩賴 亘乇 禺丕讴鈥� 乇爻鬲賳蹖 丕爻鬲
賳丕亘賵丿 亘丕丿
亘蹖 鬲賵.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 倬賳噩乇賴鈥屫з� 丿乇丿 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀�:
賵 賲賳 亘賴 丕賳鬲馗丕乇 鬲賵
鬲丕 讴賴 丿賵亘丕乇賴 亘丕夭丌蹖蹖
賵 賲乇丕 夭賳丿诏蹖 讴賳蹖.
夭蹖乇丕 讴賴 亘蹖鈥屫�
倬賳噩乇賴鈥屫з� 丿乇丿 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀�.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 亘丕夭禺賵丕賴蹖 诏卮鬲 丌蹖丕:
賵賯鬲蹖 鬲賵 賳蹖爻鬲蹖
爻乇诏乇丿丕賳貙爻乇诏卮鬲賴 丕蹖賳 爻賵丕賱 賲丿丕賵賲賲
讴賴 亘丕夭禺賵丕賴蹖 诏卮鬲 丌蹖丕責
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 丕爻鬲爻賯丕蹖 丌鬲卮:
丕诏乇 趩賴 賴蹖趩 趩蹖夭
賳亘丕蹖丿 丕賳爻丕賳鈥屬囏� 乇丕 丕夭 賴賲 噩丿丕 讴賳丿
丕賲丕 禺賵乇卮蹖丿 賵 賲丕賴
鬲丕讴賳賵賳
丕蹖賳 讴丕乇 乇丕 亘爻蹖丕乇 讴乇丿賴鈥屫з嗀�.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 亘賵爻賴鈥屬囏й� 賲丕:
毓卮賯貙亘蹖 倬乇 賵 亘丕賱 倬乇賵丕夭 賳鬲賵丕賳丿 讴乇丿
倬爻 亘賵爻賴鈥屬囏й� 賲丕
亘丕賱鈥屬囏й� 賲丕爻鬲.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 亘丕 賲賳 亘蹖丕:
亘丕 賲賳 亘蹖丕 鬲丕 丿乇丿 貙 鬲丕 夭禺賲
亘丕 賲賳 亘蹖丕 鬲丕 賳卮丕賳鬲 丿賴賲
毓卮賯賲 乇丕 丌睾丕夭 丕夭 讴噩丕爻鬲.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
毓卮賯 賲賳!
丿乇 乇賳噩鬲 丕诏乇 亘亘蹖賳賲
亘乇丕蹖 丿賵賲蹖賳 亘丕乇 禺賵丕賴賲 賲購乇丿.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 亘蹖鈥屫�:
亘蹖鈥屫�
賴乇丌賳趩賴 亘乇 禺丕讴鈥� 乇爻鬲賳蹖 丕爻鬲
賳丕亘賵丿 亘丕丿
亘蹖 鬲賵.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 倬賳噩乇賴鈥屫з� 丿乇丿 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀�:
賵 賲賳 亘賴 丕賳鬲馗丕乇 鬲賵
鬲丕 讴賴 丿賵亘丕乇賴 亘丕夭丌蹖蹖
賵 賲乇丕 夭賳丿诏蹖 讴賳蹖.
夭蹖乇丕 讴賴 亘蹖鈥屫�
倬賳噩乇賴鈥屫з� 丿乇丿 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀�.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 亘丕夭禺賵丕賴蹖 诏卮鬲 丌蹖丕:
賵賯鬲蹖 鬲賵 賳蹖爻鬲蹖
爻乇诏乇丿丕賳貙爻乇诏卮鬲賴 丕蹖賳 爻賵丕賱 賲丿丕賵賲賲
讴賴 亘丕夭禺賵丕賴蹖 诏卮鬲 丌蹖丕責
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 丕爻鬲爻賯丕蹖 丌鬲卮:
丕诏乇 趩賴 賴蹖趩 趩蹖夭
賳亘丕蹖丿 丕賳爻丕賳鈥屬囏� 乇丕 丕夭 賴賲 噩丿丕 讴賳丿
丕賲丕 禺賵乇卮蹖丿 賵 賲丕賴
鬲丕讴賳賵賳
丕蹖賳 讴丕乇 乇丕 亘爻蹖丕乇 讴乇丿賴鈥屫з嗀�.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 亘賵爻賴鈥屬囏й� 賲丕:
毓卮賯貙亘蹖 倬乇 賵 亘丕賱 倬乇賵丕夭 賳鬲賵丕賳丿 讴乇丿
倬爻 亘賵爻賴鈥屬囏й� 賲丕
亘丕賱鈥屬囏й� 賲丕爻鬲.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
鈥� 亘丕 賲賳 亘蹖丕:
亘丕 賲賳 亘蹖丕 鬲丕 丿乇丿 貙 鬲丕 夭禺賲
亘丕 賲賳 亘蹖丕 鬲丕 賳卮丕賳鬲 丿賴賲
毓卮賯賲 乇丕 丌睾丕夭 丕夭 讴噩丕爻鬲.
鈥⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌⑩赌�
February 19, 2008
Super simply put, Neruda is word sex. I am not a love poems lover, but these sonnets are so nakedly a lover's poems that in this case I'm head over heels. In seriousness, these are brilliant in translation but I especially adored the original Spanish as it really was the work at its most lyrically organic awesomeness. (And my Spanish is wobbly at best).
And organic is really the only word I'd use to describe these...Neruda himself, probably self-depricatingly (but un-self-consciously razor-accurate at the same time) described his poems relative to the rest of the genre as made out of wood, versus "silver, crystal, or cannonfire" of others. And when it comes to lurv, we know it's all about the wood (ok, that was horrible, sorry upstanding 欧宝娱乐 community).
But seriously, the way the organic, natural world emerges as characters that dance throughout these poems--i.e. scorched rocks, dove-shaped clay toys metaphorically masquerading as the human heart, breadmaking...it's so tactile that instead of being an intellectual exercise in optical recognition of printed ideas as felt memories--which most poems might even hope to achieve--with Neruda and these sonnets, you can practically taste it. It's a consuming love that even deserves to be written about, and these just devoured me.
And organic is really the only word I'd use to describe these...Neruda himself, probably self-depricatingly (but un-self-consciously razor-accurate at the same time) described his poems relative to the rest of the genre as made out of wood, versus "silver, crystal, or cannonfire" of others. And when it comes to lurv, we know it's all about the wood (ok, that was horrible, sorry upstanding 欧宝娱乐 community).
But seriously, the way the organic, natural world emerges as characters that dance throughout these poems--i.e. scorched rocks, dove-shaped clay toys metaphorically masquerading as the human heart, breadmaking...it's so tactile that instead of being an intellectual exercise in optical recognition of printed ideas as felt memories--which most poems might even hope to achieve--with Neruda and these sonnets, you can practically taste it. It's a consuming love that even deserves to be written about, and these just devoured me.
January 31, 2020
[3.5*]
螒蠀蟿蠈蟼 慰 苇谓蟿慰谓慰蟼 位蠀蟻喂蟽渭蠈蟼 魏伪喂 蟻慰渭伪谓蟿喂蟽渭蠈蟼 渭蔚 蟽蟿慰喂蠂蔚委伪 喂渭蟺蟻蔚蟽喂慰谓喂蟽渭慰蠉 蟽蔚 蟺慰位位维 蟽畏渭蔚委伪 渭蔚 魏慰蠉蟻伪蟽伪谓. 螆蟺蟻蔚蟺蔚 谓伪 蠁蟿维蟽蔚喂 蟿慰 "螒蟺蠈纬蔚蠀渭伪" 纬喂伪 谓伪 渭伪蟼 蟺蔚喂 蠈蟿喂 畏 螠伪蟿委位谓蟿蔚 蟿慰谓 纬慰蠀蟽蟿维蟻蔚喂; 螖蔚谓 胃苇位蠅 谓伪 蠁伪谓蟿伪蟽蟿蠋 蟿喂 胃伪 苇纬蟻伪蠁蔚 维渭伪 蔚委蠂蔚 蠁维蔚喂 蔚蟻蠅蟿喂魏萎 伪蟺蠈蟻蟻喂蠄畏 伪蟺蠈 蟿畏谓 伪纬伪蟺畏渭苇谓畏 蟿慰蠀 螠伪蟿委位谓蟿蔚.
螒蠀蟿蠈蟼 慰 苇谓蟿慰谓慰蟼 位蠀蟻喂蟽渭蠈蟼 魏伪喂 蟻慰渭伪谓蟿喂蟽渭蠈蟼 渭蔚 蟽蟿慰喂蠂蔚委伪 喂渭蟺蟻蔚蟽喂慰谓喂蟽渭慰蠉 蟽蔚 蟺慰位位维 蟽畏渭蔚委伪 渭蔚 魏慰蠉蟻伪蟽伪谓. 螆蟺蟻蔚蟺蔚 谓伪 蠁蟿维蟽蔚喂 蟿慰 "螒蟺蠈纬蔚蠀渭伪" 纬喂伪 谓伪 渭伪蟼 蟺蔚喂 蠈蟿喂 畏 螠伪蟿委位谓蟿蔚 蟿慰谓 纬慰蠀蟽蟿维蟻蔚喂; 螖蔚谓 胃苇位蠅 谓伪 蠁伪谓蟿伪蟽蟿蠋 蟿喂 胃伪 苇纬蟻伪蠁蔚 维渭伪 蔚委蠂蔚 蠁维蔚喂 蔚蟻蠅蟿喂魏萎 伪蟺蠈蟻蟻喂蠄畏 伪蟺蠈 蟿畏谓 伪纬伪蟺畏渭苇谓畏 蟿慰蠀 螠伪蟿委位谓蟿蔚.
January 22, 2024
賲蹖鈥屫堌з囐� 賴乇 丌賳趩賴 乇丕 丿賵爻鬲 賲蹖鈥屫ж簇� 貙 夭賳丿诏蹖 讴賳蹖
賵 鬲賵賷蹖 丌賳讴賴 亘賷卮 丕夭 賴乇趩賷夭
丿賵爻鬲 賲蹖鈥屫ж簇�..
賵 鬲賵賷蹖 丌賳讴賴 亘賷卮 丕夭 賴乇趩賷夭
丿賵爻鬲 賲蹖鈥屫ж簇�..
Read
June 26, 2020je refuse de noter le livre d鈥檜n violeur assum茅
le recueil n鈥檈st pas mauvais bien qu鈥檃ssez redondant, certains po猫mes sont tr猫s beaux mais la r茅utilisation constante des m锚mes th猫mes ternit un tant soit peu l鈥檈nsemble. et neruda me d茅go没te
le recueil n鈥檈st pas mauvais bien qu鈥檃ssez redondant, certains po猫mes sont tr猫s beaux mais la r茅utilisation constante des m锚mes th猫mes ternit un tant soit peu l鈥檈nsemble. et neruda me d茅go没te
June 25, 2015
Is the rose naked,
Or is that her only dress?
You won't believe how beautiful the images these two short lines conjure in my head, intricate rose blooms, luscious, red petals spinning in the dark, red folds of silk, dragging on the floor to the dark chambers of a secret lover.
There are lone cemeteries,
tombs full of soundless bones,
the heart threading a tunnel,
a dark, dark tunnel:
like a wreck we die to the very core,
as if drowning at the heart
or collapsing inside from skin to soul
Now that is just so sad. Quietly, movingly, eerily sad.
Love is a war of lightning,
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness
Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
If this is not beautiful, sexy poetry I don't what is.
And of course, my hands-down, all-time favorite, these unbearably romantic lines to his muse and wife:
It was beautiful to live
when you lived!
The world is bluer and of the earth
at night when I sleep
enormous, within your small hands
Now I know how it feels to fell in love with words, with beautiful, beautiful, sexy and romantic words:
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved
In secret, between the shadows and the soul
And to have my heart broken by it:
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her and sometimes she loved me too.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
And this may be the last poem I write for her.
There is nothing like sublime poetry to feed the soul. And there is something in Neruda's art that simply captures and never let goes, something dark, and delicate, and powerful. I'm no poet so I do not know what is this called. I just know it's beautiful and alluring. I think it's mortal love.
Or is that her only dress?
You won't believe how beautiful the images these two short lines conjure in my head, intricate rose blooms, luscious, red petals spinning in the dark, red folds of silk, dragging on the floor to the dark chambers of a secret lover.
There are lone cemeteries,
tombs full of soundless bones,
the heart threading a tunnel,
a dark, dark tunnel:
like a wreck we die to the very core,
as if drowning at the heart
or collapsing inside from skin to soul
Now that is just so sad. Quietly, movingly, eerily sad.
Love is a war of lightning,
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness
Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
If this is not beautiful, sexy poetry I don't what is.
And of course, my hands-down, all-time favorite, these unbearably romantic lines to his muse and wife:
It was beautiful to live
when you lived!
The world is bluer and of the earth
at night when I sleep
enormous, within your small hands
Now I know how it feels to fell in love with words, with beautiful, beautiful, sexy and romantic words:
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved
In secret, between the shadows and the soul
And to have my heart broken by it:
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her and sometimes she loved me too.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
And this may be the last poem I write for her.
There is nothing like sublime poetry to feed the soul. And there is something in Neruda's art that simply captures and never let goes, something dark, and delicate, and powerful. I'm no poet so I do not know what is this called. I just know it's beautiful and alluring. I think it's mortal love.
July 7, 2019
Vale a pena ler e sonhar que tais sentimentos um dia possam ser tamb茅m sentidos por n贸s, j谩 que escrev锚-los n茫o 茅 poss铆vel com tamanha paix茫o e do莽ura.
"No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de s铆, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendi贸 de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber c贸mo, ni cu谩ndo, ni de d贸nde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
as铆 te amo porque no s茅 amar de otra manera,
sino as铆 de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es m铆a,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sue帽o."
"No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de s铆, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendi贸 de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber c贸mo, ni cu谩ndo, ni de d贸nde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
as铆 te amo porque no s茅 amar de otra manera,
sino as铆 de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es m铆a,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sue帽o."
August 6, 2014
XVII
No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de s铆, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendi贸 de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber c贸mo, ni cu谩ndo, ni de d贸nde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
as铆 te amo porque no s茅 amar de otra manera,
sino as铆 de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es m铆a,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sue帽o.
Me encantan los sonetos y me encanta Pablo Neruda, todo lo que quiero es leerme todos los libros que tenga.
No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de s铆, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendi贸 de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber c贸mo, ni cu谩ndo, ni de d贸nde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
as铆 te amo porque no s茅 amar de otra manera,
sino as铆 de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es m铆a,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sue帽o.
Me encantan los sonetos y me encanta Pablo Neruda, todo lo que quiero es leerme todos los libros que tenga.
October 30, 2023
丨賯蹖賯鬲卮 丕氐賱丕 丿賵爻鬲 賳丿丕卮鬲賲 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 乇賵
賳賲蹖丿賵賳賲 賲卮讴賱 丕夭 鬲乇噩賲賴 亘賵丿 蹖丕 賵丕賯毓丕 禺賵丿 丕卮毓丕乇 亘賴 丿賱賲 賳卮爻鬲賳
鬲乇噩賲賴 卮毓乇 讴賱丕 禺蹖賱蹖 讴丕乇 爻禺鬲 賵 丨爻丕爻蹖賴
丕诏賴 胤乇賮 賵丕乇丿 賳亘丕卮賴 讴丕賲賱丕 鬲賵 匕賵賯 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 賲蹖禺賵乇賴
賵賱蹖 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕 讴丕賲賱丕 賳丕丕賲蹖丿賲 讴乇丿賴
賳賲蹖丿賵賳賲 賲卮讴賱 丕夭 鬲乇噩賲賴 亘賵丿 蹖丕 賵丕賯毓丕 禺賵丿 丕卮毓丕乇 亘賴 丿賱賲 賳卮爻鬲賳
鬲乇噩賲賴 卮毓乇 讴賱丕 禺蹖賱蹖 讴丕乇 爻禺鬲 賵 丨爻丕爻蹖賴
丕诏賴 胤乇賮 賵丕乇丿 賳亘丕卮賴 讴丕賲賱丕 鬲賵 匕賵賯 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 賲蹖禺賵乇賴
賵賱蹖 倬丕亘賱賵 賳乇賵丿丕 讴丕賲賱丕 賳丕丕賲蹖丿賲 讴乇丿賴
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