A new bilingual Spanish-English edition of Neruda's famous Book of Questions, a Copper Canyon bestseller.
Read an Excerpt
Tell me, is the rose naked
or is that her only dress?
Why do trees conceal
the splendor of their roots?
Who hears the regrets
of the thieving automobile?
Is there anything in the world sadder
than a train standing in the rain?
And what did the rubies say
standing before the juice of pomegranates?
Why doesn't Thursday talk itself
into coming after Friday?
Who shouted with glee
when the color blue was born?
Why does the earth grieve
when the violets appear?
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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Pablo Neruda is much missed as a poet and thinker. Since his death in 1973 there has been an even stronger growing of appreciation for his unique style of writing. During his last days he composed this strange little collection of some 300-odd questions and a number of poems all dealing with the life cycle as only one who sees his end at hand can write. The subjects are death, rebirth and nature in as complete a marriage of intention as any poet has created. They are beautifully translated by William O'Daly. Intending his reader to be stimulated by his words to create a visual image that is personal, his questions from this volume so aptly titled 'The Book of Questions' open our eyes and our minds to some rapturously beautiful experiences. Examples: 'Why don't inanimate things do something? Where did a celestial body leave something tonight? Why don't they train helicopters to suck honey from the sunlight? Where did the full moon leave its sack of flour tonight?' Warmly humorous, touching and eventually elevating, the questions remain on the backs of our eyes awaiting reentry into our brains for relish at needy times. Neruda is a poet for all seasons. Just read this book and discover. Grady Harp
The last of Neruda's unpublished works reels his political beleifs closer to simplicity, which is to say they can be questioned just as love or people are. His battery of questions appeals to aspects of everyday life and brings meaning to them by both extol and embarrassment. I prefer the original manuscript; Spanish is the only language that can hold a candle to Neruda's style. However, this book's translation does hold truth to his originality. Like most of his work, The Book of Questions is hard to describe; for poetry can only be experienced first hand. I encourage any fan to pick up a copy, under the condition he/she present their imagination as well. Enjoy.