⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

No soy de la poesía pero este libro vale la pena !

Me ha encantado y es el primero en llevarse mis 5 estrellas este año !!

Ah you who are silent!
Here is the solitude from which you are absent.
It is raining. The sea wind is hunting stray gulls.
The water walks barefoot in the wet streets.
From that tree the leaves complain as though they were sick.
❤

Neruda. Still my favorite poet, but I’m glad I didn’t read this collection first. I much prefer his later poems. They are deeper--as you would expect, thoughts from such a deep thinker would deepen with age. Even with the poems in this collection, written when he was so young, he has the power to change the way you look at things—forever.

Just for a taste, some lines from two of my favorites.

From “The Morning is Full”
The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of good-bye,
the wind, traveling, waving them in its hands.


From “Your Breast Is Enough”
Your breast is enough for my heart,
and my wings for your freedom.
What was sleeping above your soul will rise
out of my mouth to heaven.
In you is the illusion of each day.
You arrive like the dew to the cupped flowers.

In you is the illusion of each day
You arrive like the dew to the cupped flowers.

Sentimental. Honest. Exquisite.

"Τώρα πια δεν την αγαπάω σίγουρα...
Μπορεί όμως και να την αγαπάω.
Βιάζεται ο έρωτας να λείψει κι αργεί να φύγει η λησμονιά"

Has anyone read and understood the Song of Solomon? Neruda must have. And he must have understood it too! These poems are more than just about the physical love between man and woman: they are about what happens to the soul. For some reason pine trees feature a fair amount here, from " ... as I love you, the pines in the wind / want to sing your name with their leaves of wire" to "I have said that you sang in the wind / like the pines and like the masts. / Like them you are tall and taciturn, / and you are sad, all at once, like a voyage." He wants to "do with you what spring does with the cherry trees", but also knows that "the leaves complain as though they / were sick" in her absence. One can only say that he really loves her (and I wish I could understand the Chilean versions, also printed in the book), or that she left him and his love needed renewing with each new love. My words do not relate his beautiful descriptions for love, so I will be still:

I like for you to be still
It is as though you are absent
And you hear me from far away
And my voice does not touch you
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth

As all things are filled with my soul
You emerge from the things
Filled with my soul
You are like my soul
A butterfly of dream
And you are like the word: Melancholy

I like for you to be still
And you seem far away
It sounds as though you are lamenting
A butterfly cooing like a dove
And you hear me from far away
And my voice does not reach you
Let me come to be still in your silence

And let me talk to you with your silence
That is bright as a lamp
Simple, as a ring
You are like the night
With its stillness and constellations
Your silence is that of a star
As remote and candid

I like for you to be still
It is as though you are absent
Distant and full of sorrow
So you would've died
One word then, One smile is enough
And I'm happy;
Happy that it's not true

(translated by W.S. Merwin)

I'm not a good person at judging poetry, but thought I'd give this one a go after hearing it recommended on a Bookish podcast.

I thought it was cool how it had the original Spanish version next to the translated one. I wish I knew Spanish because I bet this was even better in its intended form, however the translator did an excellent job with it. I also enjoyed the introduction because I got to learn some basics about Pablo Neruda - his life and work.

It was very short - literally 20 love poems and an extra one titled "A Song of Despair". I'm horrible at deciphering poetry, the imagery, meaning, symbolism, etc... But what I gathered from this was that it was beautifully crafted and very sensual. Particularly since it was published in 1924, I was kind of blown away with some of it. It was packed full of all the human senses and I got a overwhelming sense of loneliness throughout much of the poems. I would definitely try some more by this poet.

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh baby

I expected something extraordinary from an author so famous and admired. But, unfortunately, it spoils this effect of discovery. My first Neruda was a bilingual collection (where I also had fun reading the original version) consisting of three small clusters of different shapes. Elementary writing, but which reaches grandeur, where the woman is at the center; all types of women and metaphors. Neruda has managed to express himself around familiar topics such as love and women without falling into bad taste and missteps as if he were walking acrobatically on the blade of a knife. I fondly remember this reading; I enjoyed some metaphors and puns.

Veinte Poemas de Amor y una Canción Desesperada = Twenty love Poems and a Song of Despair, Pablo Neruda

Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, is a collection of romantic poems, by the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, first published in 1924 by Editorial Nascimento of Santiago, when Neruda was 19. It was Neruda's second published work, after Twilight (1923) and made his name as a poet.

Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair was controversial for its eroticism, especially considering its author's very young age. Over the decades, Twenty poems has become Neruda's best-known work, and has sold more than 20 million copies.

Saddest Poem

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her. Pablo Neruda.

عنوانهای چاپ شده در ایران: «ب‍ی‍س‍ت‌ غ‍زل‍واره‌ و ی‍ک‌ غ‍م‌آوا»؛ «بی‍س‍ت‌ ش‍ع‍ر ع‍اش‍ق‍ان‍ه‌ و ی‍ک‌ س‍رود ن‍وم‍ی‍دی‌»؛ «بیست شعر عاشقانه و آوایی از یاس»؛ شاعر: پابلو نرودا؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش: سال1974میلادی

عنوان: ب‍ی‍س‍ت‌ غ‍زل‍واره‌ و ی‍ک‌ غ‍م‌آوا؛ شاعر: پابلو نرودا؛ ت‍رج‍م‍ه‌ ب‍ه‌ ان‍گ‍ل‍ی‍س‍ی‌: دابل‍ی‍و.اس م‍روی‍ن‌؛ مترجم: ک‍ری‍م‌ رش‍ی‍دی‍ان‌؛ اصفهان، انتشارات بابک‏‫، سال1351؛ در85ص؛ موضوع ‏‫شعر شاعران شیلی به زبان اسپانیا‬ - سده 20م

عنوان: ب‍ی‍س‍ت‌ ش‍ع‍ر ع‍اش‍ق‍ان‍ه‌ و ی‍ک‌ س‍رود ن‍وم‍ی‍دی‌؛ شاعر پ‍اب‍ل‍و ن‍رودا؛ برگردان: ف‍رود خ‍س‍روان‍ی‌؛ تهران، نشر امیرکبیر، سال1352؛ در71ص؛ چاپ دوم سال1355؛

‬عنوان: بیست شعر عاشقانه و آوایی از یاس؛ شاعر پابلو نرودا؛ مترجم هانیه نیکو؛ تهران، نشر تیسا، سال1397؛ در92ص؛ شابک9786008942597؛‬

پابلو نرودا نام مستعار «نفتالی ریکاردو الیسر ریه‌ س باسوآلتو»، سایستمدار و شاعر شیلی هست؛ ایشان نام «نرودا» را از روی نام «یان نرودا» نویسنده ی «چک» برگزیده بودند؛ سپس «پابلو نرودا»، نام رسمی ایشان شد؛ ایشان با چاپ همین کتاب با عنوان «بیست شعر عاشقانه و یک ترانه نومیدی»، به اوج نامداری رسیدند

نقل شعری از ایشان: (امشب میتوانم، غمگین ترین شعرها را بسرایم؛ مثلا بنویسم: شب پرستاره است؛ و ستاره ها آبی، چشمک زن، در دوردست؛ بادِ شبانه، در آسمان میچرخد، و آواز میخواند؛ امشب میتوانم غمگین ترین شعرها را بسرایم؛ او را دوست میداشتم، و گاه، او نیز، مرا دوست داشت؛ در شبهایی اینچنین، او را در بر و بازوانم میگرفتم؛ هماره زیر آسمان لایتناهی او را میبوسیدم؛ او مرا دوست داشت، و گاه، من نیز او را دوست داشتم؛ چشمانِ آرام بزرگ ایشان را، چگونه میتوان دوست نداشت؟ امشب میتوانم غمگینترین شعرها را بسرایم؛ فکر اینکه او را ندارم، احساس اینکه از دستش داده ام؛ گوش دادن به شب بزرگوار، که بدون او بزرگتر هم هست؛ و شعر، که نزول میکند، بر روحم، همانند شبنم، که بر علف؛ چقدر اندوهگینم که عشقم نتوانست او را نگهدارد؟ شب پرستاره است، و او، با من نیست؛ تا همین اندازه کافی است؛ در دوردست، یکی آواز میخواند؛ دوردست؛ روحم ب��ون او گم شده، تا مگر او را نزدم بیاورد؛ چشمانم دنبالش میگردد؛ دلم او را میجوید؛ و او با من نیست؛ همان شبها، همان درختان را سپید میکنند؛ ما از آن زمان، دیگر همان کس نیستیم که بودیم؛ دیگر دوستش ندارم - درست است - اما؛ چقدر دوستش داشتم؛ صدایم در جستجوی بادی ست، تا به گوشش برساند؛ کسی دیگر، او کسی دیگر را میخواهد؛ همچون پیش، که بوسه هایم را داشت؛ صدایش، بدن روشنش، چشمان نامحدودش، دیگر دوستش ندارم –درست است-؛ اما شاید هم دوستش داشته باشم؛ عشق اینچنین کوتاه، و فراموشی اینقدر طولانی؛ زیرا در شبهایی اینچنین، او را در آغوشم میگرفتم؛ روحم بدون او گم شده؛ اگرچه شاید این آخرین رنجی باشد؛ که به خاطر او میکشم؛ و این آخرین شعری ست؛ که برایش میسرایم)؛ پایان نقل از پابلو نرودا

تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 17/05/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 03/03/1401هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی

'I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.'

'Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets towards your oceanic eyes.'


What's there to say? Pablo Neruda is one of my favourite poets, and here's one of his masterpiece. Verse after verse reveal striking ideas after striking ideas, gathered altogether to make fleeting and eerie poetry among the best I have ever read. It can be bold. It can be quirky. It can be sweet. It can be rough. Always, though, it transpires of a powerful sensuality which is just luscious. One of the best poetry collection ever written.

Despite the "read" date this book has on my Goodreads archives, in reality I read this before Goodreads existed, in my early teens. I loved Neruda to bits back then, I memorised some of my favourites, and was asked by teachers to recite them at school, for which I'd get great marks.

I also knew the same poem that Robin Williams recites in "Patch Adams" by rote, English and Spanish versions, and recorded a declamation to give to a former boyfriend as a gift.

I did all that as someone who doesn't like poetry, so that gives you an idea of how much I liked Neruda.

Then I read Neruda's memoirs, Confieso que he vivido, and never looked at his poetry the same way ever again.

Why? Because of something he confessed in that book, which I'm putting in spoilers; it's in Spanish, but you can use Google translate. n  He raped a defenceless housemaid that couldn't either refuse or resist, and he knew that well.n

Yes, I know what some will say. Separate the artist from the work, his work speaks for itself, Nobel Prize for Literature, we all make mistakes, blah blah and etc. But I cannot in this case, this is a rapist writing love poetry for and about women, women whose rights and body he had no issue violating for his own selfish wants, which is deeply revolting and runs contrary to my sense of right and wrong. And Neruda never paid for his crime, which makes it even worse.

So, no, I can't and I won't separate Neruda from his love poetry.

"يلفّكِ الضوءُ في شعُلته المُميتة..
ذاهلةً، شاحبةً، مُنهكةً، هكذا تبدين
أمامَ دوّامات الشفق العتيقة
وهي تطوفُ حولك.ِ."

n  n

مجموعة رقيقة ساحرة ومؤثرة.
كُل الحُب نيرودا..