About book Twenty Love Poems And A Song Of Despair (2006)
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." - 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 by Paul of Tarsus."You know that language changes over a thousand years, and words that were then in use now seem strange to us; but they really did talk that way, and they spoke as eloquently about love as anyone did in any age or country." - Modern paraphrase from book 2 of Troilus and Criseyde by Geoffrey Chaucer. "Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:What is it else? a madness most discreet,A choking gall and a preserving sweet." - Romeo and Juliet Act 1, scene 1 by William Shakespeare."Just as time knew to move on since the beginningAnd the seasons know exactly when to changeJust as kindness knows no shameKnow through all your joy and painThat I'll be loving you always." - From the song "As" by Stevie Wonder.As the above quotes show, humans have been trying to define "love" forever. It is a concept that we contemplate on in some way, shape, or form, constantly with varying levels of success or basic understanding. I was content long ago to let St. Paul have the definitive word on this topic...until I met Señor Pablo Neruda. I did not think it was possible to really be able to define love more than once. Pablo Neruda successfully does it...twenty times! The edition of this book I read is a dual-translation, but my quotes from it will be in english and from the poem that made me pick it up "Juegas Todos Los Días": "Every day you play with the light of the universe.Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water,You are more than this white head that I hold tightlyas a bunch of flowers, every day, between my hands.You are like nobody since I love you.Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.The rain takes off her clothes."This poem hit me like a brick and I wanted to hear more and learn about the man who wrote it. Pablo Neruda was an almost unknown poet from Chile who shot to instant stardom when he published this volume of poetry. He would be the second internationally known South American writer after neighboring Argentinian Jorge Luis Borges. He was also a socialist who developed a close bond with the world's first democratically elected Marxist president Salvador Allende. Neruda would die days after Allende's death and the aftermath of the coup against Allende by General Agusto Pinochet. "The birds go by, fleeing.The wind. The wind.I alone can contend against the power of men.The storm whirls dark leavesand turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.You are here. Oh, you do not run away.You will answer me to the last cry.Curl round me as though you were frightened.Even so, a strange shadow once ran through your eyes.Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,and even your breasts smell of it.While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterfliesI love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth."These poems are so unashamed and forthright that it is almost shocking to think this collection was published in 1924. Neruda is not at all embarrassed to talk about love and he feels the utmost happiness and joy in each of his poems. His use of imagery would give T.S. Eliot a run for his money and he does not give you a weak poem in the bunch. Even the "Song of Despair" at the end is still at the same high passionate intensity as the preceding 20 poems. Whether you are in love or use to be in love (speaking for myself), you will appreciate this books honest devotion and declaration to this ancient and yet new concept."How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,and over our heads the grey light unwinds in turning fans.My words rained over you, stroking you.A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.Until I even believe that you own the universe.I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees." -Poema XIV
from The Book HooliganHere I love you.In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself. The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.-Pablo Neruda from "Here I Love You"When I was in high school, a local radio station from the town where my school is located interviewed me about being a student (aspiring) poet. None of my friends knew about this at the time (a select few learned about it years after the interview happened) except my high school English teacher (who, somehow, made the whole thing possible). At that time, I had delusions of grandeur about being a poet and, during those times when my feelings were aflame, I put my thoughts to paper with sincere frequency. The interview centered about my inspirations about being a student poet and my inspiration, if there are any. Of course, I forgot most of the answers that I gave except the fact that I am inspired by, the most famous muse of all, Love.Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair centered and, I assume, was inspired by Love. Neruda's love for different women (I assume), and his love his native Chile. It truly takes a poet of tremendous skill to make poems of this caliber, poems that celebrate women and nature in the same breath as if they are both inseparable. While reading this, Neruda made me see and feel his imagery. Time stops and modern life, with all its hustle and bustle, disappears. The weary reader, beaten to death by the speed at which today's life is going, will be transported to a differently-paced world where time is not dictated by the rules of the clock but instead by the cadence of Neruda's poetry. The city disappears and is replaced by mountains; the honking of cars is replaced by the singing of birds; and the indifference and cynicism that you feel will be replaced by a sense of longing. Such are the power of Neruda's words.Of course, everything reads naturally and without effort. You know that this is really how Neruda feels when he was writing the poem. There are no pretensions and there are no gimmicks and this is really how, in the moments that we are filled with love and despair, we wanted to sound like. When reading this, I remembered thinking to myself that this is exactly what I feel when I am in love; only I didn't know how to express myself in such a beautiful way.The timing of the collection was also touched upon in the introduction by Cristina Garcia. Twenty Love Poems and A Song of Despair came out in the aftermath of World War I. How this affected the recovery of our world, I don't know. But I cannot help imagining a soldier, coming back from the war, getting his hands on a copy of this book of poems. A soldier, exposed to the brutality of war, reads and finish the collection of poems and then finds himself feeling a sense of longing replacing his cynicism which leads to him looking forward to going home to his native land, wherever that may be, and to the love of his life, whoever she is.My favorite poem in the collection is I Like For You To Be Still and Here I Love You. When I was reading them, I was filled with such longing and my heart sighed like it was in despair even when it wasn't. I came to read this collection for Tonight I Can Write but I eventually liked the two poems I mentioned above more. In I Like For You To Be Still, Neruda writes:I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,distant and full of sorrow as though you had diedOne word then, one smile, is enoughAnd I am happy, happy that it's not trueAnd then, in Here I Love You:Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.I love you still among these cold things.Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vesselsthat cross the sea towards no arrival.I see myself forgotten like those old anchor.The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.I love what I do not have. You are so far.Such are the powers of Neruda's words that I am transformed into someone who feels that the love of his life is so far away even though she is really just beside me, hearing me read these words to her.
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It's weird if someone saw me reading poetry in public, why? I never ever enjoyed reading poetry since the day I was born. The day that my Elementary teacher forced me to memorize an Evangelical Hymn, All Things Bright and Beautiful - in which James Herriot entitled his books - and to my 3rd Year High School teacher who required us to memorize Annabelle Lee by Edgar Allan Poe to pass her exam and so on.If I have the chance to change my past, I want to change my love to poetry. I'm sure if anybody here read Neruda's beautiful poems, they will love them and they will never forget every single word he sang. I might also ask my teachers to change their syllabus and add good poets like Neruda and the others. I don't know why teachers are forced to follow text books?Who is Pablo Neruda? I never heard of him but when one of the Flippers volunteered to be a moderator for the month of February and chose Neruda's poetry I was forced to buy his small book and read it. It takes me a while to feed myself with poetry, but it takes only a minute to finish a poem and it takes hour to feel the joy and sadness of every words.Back to my question, Pablo Neruda or Ricardo Eliecer Reyes was a poetic genius and he was awarded because of his ability to write good poems in a very young age. On his 20 years of existence, he published his first book and loved by many, it was a success. Because his father opposed to his writing ideas, he was forced to change his name to Pablo Neruda, from a historical novelist Jan Neruda, to avoid his father's disapproval.Pablo Neruda practice Modernism on his poem. Modernism, it hailed the fragmentation of daily life and the emphasis individuals experience. It takes only a few years for Modernism to be lost and forgotten by anyone. If you read his poem, it was simple and easy to read. Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair a collection of poems of love, regret and passion. Below are the two (2) poems I loved from his collection. VIII - White BeeWhite bee, you buzz in my soul, drunk with honeyand your flight winds in slow spirals of smoke.I am the one without hope, the word without echoes,he who lost everything and he who had everything.Last hawser, in you creaks my last longing.In my barren land you are the final rose.Ah you who are silent!Let your deep eyes close. There the night flutters.Ah your body, a frightened statue, naked.You have deep eyes in which the night flails.Cool arms of flowers and a lap of rose.Your breasts seem like white snails.A butterfly of shadow has come to sleep on your belly.Ah you who are silent!Have you tried looking at the window and you saw the woman you love in white, dancing, jolly, and happy like there is no tomorrow. You only wish is to be with her and fall in your deepest dream of touching her body. Maybe Neruda felt joy and sadness writing his poems especially the last one, the most lonely and my least favorite.I - Body of a WomanBody of a woman, white hills, white thighs,when you surrender, you stretch out like the world.My body, savage and pleasant, undermines youand makes a son leap in the bottom of the earth.I was lonely as a tunnel. Birds flew from me.And night invaded me with her powerful army.To survive I forged you like a weapon,like an arrow for my bow, or a stone for my sling.But now the hour of revenge falls, and I love you.Body of skin, of moss, of firm and thirsty milk!And the cups of your breasts! And your eyes full of absence!And the roses of your mound! And your voice slow and sad!Body of my woman, I will live on through your marvelousness,My thirst, my desire without end, my wavering road!Dark river beds down which the eternal thirst is flowing,and the fatigue is flowing, and the grief without shore.You are in a dark room with someone you love, looking at her body with passion. Touching every angle and the only light who guides you are the grayish light of the old maiden, moon. This must be a simplest poem on his collection and I really enjoyed the way she explained the body of a woman like you draw a woman in a canvas.The book also include Pablo Picasso's art of couples and nude women. This is one of Pablo Picasso's art, being animated and trying to depict two lovers in a sense of portraying it magically.Rating - Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair by Pablo Neruda, 3 Sweets and the night I saw a nude woman sleeping under the beautiful goddess of moon. (I don't read much about poems and I don't know if I have the right to rate this book. In some point I really enjoyed reading it! Recommended to everyone who loves to fall in love, another problem for me, I can't relate.)Challenges:Book #22 for 2011Book #14 for Off the Shelf!
—Kwesi 章英狮
في البداية ترجمة القصائد بائسة جدا، تماما كالأغنية البائسة في نهاية الكتاب، ربما ترجمة كتاب التساؤلات لنفس الكاتب كانت أفضل قليلا. لم تصلني معظم القصائد لا أعرف لماذا؟،بالرغم من الشعبية الواسعة لها، لكن ربما الترجمة لعبت دور البطل في هذا الشعور السىء.ولكن مع ذلك هناك جزء أعجبني في بعض القصائد، منه على سبيل المثال:-ـ أتذكّركِ مثلما كنتِأتذكّركِ مثلما كنتِ في الخريف الفائت.قبُّعةٌ رماديةٌ وقلبٌ ساكن.في عينيكِ تتّقدُ ألسنة الشفق.وتسقُطُ الأوراق في مياه روحك.متشبّثةً بذراعيّ مثل نبتةٍ متسلّقة،تلملم أوراقُها صوتَكِ المتمهّل والهادئ.لهبٌ من ذهولٍ تحترق فيه ذاتي.سنبلةٌ برّيةٌ عذبةٌ زرقاء تعانق روحي.أُحِسُّ بعينيكِ تسافران والخريف بعيدقبّعةٌ رمادية، صوتُ عصفورٍ وقلبٌ مثل بيتتهاجر إليه أشواقيَ العميقة --------------------------------تُعجبينني حين تصمتينتُعجبينني حين تصمتين وتكونين كالبعيدةوكما لو كنت تشتكين، يا فراشة هامسةوتسمعينني من بعيد، وصوتي لا يُدرككِدعيني أصمُت بصمتكدعيني أُحدِّثك بصمتكالواضح كقنديل، البسيط كخاتمأنتِ كالليل، صامتة ومتناثرة.صمتك مصنوع من النجوم، بعيد وبسيط.تُعجبينني حين تصمتين إذ تكونين كالغائبة.بعيدة ومُوجِعة كما لو كنت قد مُتِّكلمة واحدة إذن، ابتسامة واحدة تكفيانوأنا فرحٌ، فرحٌ بأنّ ذلك ليس صحيحاً.
—Afaf Ammar
Neruda does not play with the intangible. He does not waste words with the abstract. One simply needs to read and take in the pure and stark versification of the sensualities of life, both in love and lust. Neruda’s distinct style in poetry is easily distinguishable. First, his work is intuitive of the austere beauty of nature and his Chilean roots. The verses are reflective of the uncompromising beauty of the environment that he has witnessed in his formative years. The poems allude to the vastness of the pines, the heart of summer, sweet blue hyacinths, still ponds, barren lands, and white bees. “I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,dark hazels, and rustic basket of kisses.”(74, Poem XIV) Second, Neruda also leads us to enjoy the sweetness existing in realm of the senses. He fearlessly incorporates love and lust in his verses. “My somber heart searches for you, nevertheless,And I love your joyful body, your slender and flowing voice.” (75, Poem XIX)“Tonight I can write the saddest lines.I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.” (77, Poem XX)But to read and consume these two aspects of his poetry in a compartmentalized manner would be an affront to why Gabriel Garcia Marquez called Neruda “the greatest poet of the 20th century in any language."* Neruda combines the sensual experience of the individual with the beauty of the natural and the reader is treated to a union unlike any other. “Body of a woman, white hills, white thighsYou look like a world, lying in surrender.My rough peasant’s body digs in youand makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.” (3 Poem I)“I go so far a to think that you own the universe.I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,dark hazels, and rustic basket of kisses.I wantto do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”(74, Poem XIV)notes:* The fragrance of guava: Conversations with Gabriel García Márquez. I did not give a short introduction on Neruda reserving most of my comments later on for a review on his memoirs.My copy is bilingual, a Spanish-English translation by W.S. Wermin, which definitely polished my rusting Spanish speaking skills. The same copy is infused with Pablo Picasso’s works like this, You get the idea that it seeks to perhaps contribute to the general them of the book, but I have no sound knowledge if this was sanctioned or approved by Neruda in its first translated printing in 1969, five years before he died, or whether the same pictures accompanied the first print in Chile in 1924, or if it appeared only in this copy published by Penguin Books. This book forms part of my remarkably extensive reading list on Nobel Prize for Literature LaureatesThis review, along with my other reviews, has been cross-posted at imbookedindefinitely
—Jareed
