در مقدمه‌ی کتاب آمده که آقای نرودا چه‌قدر در شکل‌گیری و تصحیح ساختارهای شعر اسپانیایی {و البته به‌کارگیری آن به‌عنوان یک سلاح در برابر مصائب سیاسی‌-اجتماعی} ید طولایی داشتند و برایش نوبل بردند. منی که ترجمه‌ی فارسی‌اش را می‌خوانم چه‌چیزی عایدم می‌شود؟ اصلا مترجم چه‌قدر به‌زبان فارسی مسلط و به‌زبان اسپانیایی مشرف است که بتواند درست و با زمینه‌وزمانه شعر را ترجمه کند؟ عملی‌ست عبث.

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Realmente Neruda y yo no somos compatibles.

Recuerdo con frustración que me asignaron su autobiografía "Confieso que he Vivido" en bachillerato y no pude terminarlo por lo aburrido que era.

Su poesía me desespera. Sus constantes aluciones al trigo, al pan, y el horno que levanta la levadura me hace pensar que tenía un sueño frustrado de panadero. Eso o Matilde, su bienamada, era un pan en otra vida.

Si acaso disfruté de dos o tres de los sonetos es mucho.

Matilde, where are you? Down there I noticed,
under my necktie and just above the heart,
a certain pang of grief between the ribs,
you were gone that quickly.

I needed 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.

Out of sheer taciturnity the ceiling listens
to the fall of the ancient leafless rain,
to feathers, to whatever the night imprisoned:

so I wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache.

~ from the book

When I die I want your hands on my eyes

When I die I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and the wheat of your beloved hands
to pass their freshness over me one more time
to feel the smoothness that changed my destiny.

I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,
I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind,
for you to smell the sea that we loved together
and for you to go on walking the sand where we walked.

I want for what I love to go on living
and as for you I loved you and sang you above everything,
for that, go on flowering, flowery one,

so that you reach all that my love orders for you,
so that my shadow passes through your hair,
so that they know by this the reason for my song.

~ from the book