The Poetry of Pablo Neruda offers the most comprehensive English-language collection ever by "the greatest poet of the twentieth century--in any language" (Gabriel García Márquez).
"In his work a continent awakens to consciousness," wrote the Swedish Academy in awarding the Nobel Prize to Pablo Neruda, author of more than thirty-five books of poetry and one of Latin America's most revered writers and political figures-a loyal member of the Communist party, a lifelong diplomat and onetime senator, a man lionized during his lifetime as "the people's poet."
Born Neftali Basoalto, Neruda adopted his pen name in fear of his family's disapproval, and yet by the age of twenty-five he was already famous for the book Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, which remains his most beloved. During the next fifty years, a seemingly boundless metaphorical language linked his romantic fantasies and the fierce moral and political compass-exemplified in books such as Canto General-that made him an adamant champion of the dignity of ordinary men and women.
Edited and with an introduction by Ilan Stavans, this is the most comprehensive single-volume collection of this prolific poet's work in English. Here the finest translations of nearly six hundred poems by Neruda are collected and join specially commissioned new translations that attest to Neruda's still-resounding presence in American letters.
The Poetry of Pablo Neruda offers the most comprehensive English-language collection ever by "the greatest poet of the twentieth century--in any language" (Gabriel García Márquez).
"In his work a continent awakens to consciousness," wrote the Swedish Academy in awarding the Nobel Prize to Pablo Neruda, author of more than thirty-five books of poetry and one of Latin America's most revered writers and political figures-a loyal member of the Communist party, a lifelong diplomat and onetime senator, a man lionized during his lifetime as "the people's poet."
Born Neftali Basoalto, Neruda adopted his pen name in fear of his family's disapproval, and yet by the age of twenty-five he was already famous for the book Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, which remains his most beloved. During the next fifty years, a seemingly boundless metaphorical language linked his romantic fantasies and the fierce moral and political compass-exemplified in books such as Canto General-that made him an adamant champion of the dignity of ordinary men and women.
Edited and with an introduction by Ilan Stavans, this is the most comprehensive single-volume collection of this prolific poet's work in English. Here the finest translations of nearly six hundred poems by Neruda are collected and join specially commissioned new translations that attest to Neruda's still-resounding presence in American letters.
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Overview
The Poetry of Pablo Neruda offers the most comprehensive English-language collection ever by "the greatest poet of the twentieth century--in any language" (Gabriel García Márquez).
"In his work a continent awakens to consciousness," wrote the Swedish Academy in awarding the Nobel Prize to Pablo Neruda, author of more than thirty-five books of poetry and one of Latin America's most revered writers and political figures-a loyal member of the Communist party, a lifelong diplomat and onetime senator, a man lionized during his lifetime as "the people's poet."
Born Neftali Basoalto, Neruda adopted his pen name in fear of his family's disapproval, and yet by the age of twenty-five he was already famous for the book Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, which remains his most beloved. During the next fifty years, a seemingly boundless metaphorical language linked his romantic fantasies and the fierce moral and political compass-exemplified in books such as Canto General-that made him an adamant champion of the dignity of ordinary men and women.
Edited and with an introduction by Ilan Stavans, this is the most comprehensive single-volume collection of this prolific poet's work in English. Here the finest translations of nearly six hundred poems by Neruda are collected and join specially commissioned new translations that attest to Neruda's still-resounding presence in American letters.
Product Details
ISBN-13: | 9781466894532 |
---|---|
Publisher: | Farrar, Straus and Giroux |
Publication date: | 09/01/2015 |
Sold by: | Macmillan |
Format: | eBook |
Pages: | 1040 |
Sales rank: | 177,861 |
File size: | 5 MB |
About the Author
Pablo Neruda (1904-73), one of the renowned poets of the twentieth century, was born in Farral, Chile. He shared the World Peace Prize with Paul Robeson and Pablo Picasso in 1950, and he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1971. His books include Residence on Earth, Canto General, Extravagaria, and Isla Negra.
Date of Birth:
July 12, 1904Date of Death:
September 23, 1973Place of Birth:
Parral, ChilePlace of Death:
Santiago, ChileEducation:
University of Chile, SantiagoRead an Excerpt
The Poetry of Pablo Neruda
By Pablo Neruda, Ilan Stavans
Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Copyright © 2003 Pablo Neruda and Fundación Pablo NerudaAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-9453-2
CHAPTER 1
from
BOOK OF TWILIGHT
CREPUSCULARIO
* * *
1920-1923
FAREWELL AND SOBS
* * *
LOVE
Woman, I would have been your child, to drink
the milk of your breasts as from a well,
to see and feel you at my side and have you
in your gold laughter and your crystal voice.
To feel you in my veins like God in the rivers
and adore you in the sorrowful bones of dust and lime,
to watch you passing painlessly by
to emerge in the stanza — cleansed of all evil.
How I would love you, woman, how I would
love you, love you as no one ever did!
Die and still
love you more.
And still
love you more
and more.
ILAN STAVANS
MARURI'S TWILIGHTS
* * *
IF GOD IS IN MY VERSE
Dog of mine,
if God is in my verse,
I am God.
If God is in your distressed eyes,
you are God.
No one exists in this immense world of ours
that might kneel before us two!
ILAN STAVANS
MY SOUL
My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.
ILAN STAVANS
from
TWENTY LOVE
POEMS AND A SONG
OF DESPAIR
VEINTE POEMAS DE AMOR
Y UNA CANCIÓN
DESESPERADA
* * *
1923-1924
TWENTY LOVE POEMS
* * *
I
Body of woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like the world in your posture of surrender.
My savage peasant body digs through you
and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.
I went alone as a tunnel. Birds fled from me,
and night invaded me with her powerful force.
To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,
like an arrow in my bow, like a stone in my sling.
But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.
Body of skin, of moss, of avid, steady milk.
Ah the goblets of the breasts! Ah the eyes of absence!
Ah the roses of the pubis! Ah your voice slow and sad!
Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.
My thirst, my boundless yearning, my indecisive path!
Dark riverbeds where eternal thirst follows,
and fatigue follows, and infinite sorrow.
MARK EISNER
II
The light wraps you in its mortal flame.
Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way
against the old propellers of the twilight
that revolves around you.
Speechless, my friend,
alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead
and filled with the lives of fire,
pure heir of the ruined day.
A bough of fruit falls from the sun on your dark garment.
The great roots of night
grow suddenly from your soul,
and the things that hide in you come out again
so that a blue and pallid people,
your newly born, takes nourishment.
Oh magnificent and fecund and magnetic slave
of the circle that moves in turn through black and gold:
rise, lead, and possess a creation
so rich in life that its flowers perish
and it is full of sadness.
W. S. MERWIN
IX
Drunk with pines and long kisses,
like summer I steer the fast sail of the roses,
bent towards the death of the thin day,
stuck into my solid marine madness.
Pale and lashed to my ravenous water,
I cruise in the sour smell of the naked climate,
still dressed in gray and bitter sounds
and a sad crest of abandoned spray.
Hardened by passions, I go mounted on my one wave,
lunar, solar, burning and cold, all at once,
becalmed in the throat of the fortunate isles
that are white and sweet as cool hips.
In the moist night my garment of kisses trembles
charged to insanity with electric currents,
heroically divided into dreams
and intoxicating roses practicing on me.
Upstream, in the midst of the outer waves,
your parallel body yields to my arms
like a fish infinitely fastened to my soul,
quick and slow, in the energy under the sky.
W. S. MERWIN
X
Hemos perdido aun este crepúsculo.
Nadie nos vio esta tarde con las manos unidas
mientras la noche azul caía sobre el mundo.
He visto desde mi ventana
la fiesta del poniente en los cerros lejanos.
A veces como una moneda
se encendía un pedazo de sol entre mis manos.
Yo te recordaba con el alma apretada
de esa tristeza que tú me conoces.
Entonces, dónde estabas?
Entre qué gentes?
Diciendo qué palabras?
Por qué se me vendrá todo el amor de golpe
cuando me siento triste, y te siento lejana?
Cayó el libro que siempre se toma en el crepúsculo,
y como un perro herido rodó a mis pies mi capa.
Siempre, siempre te alejas en las tardes
hacia donde el crepúsculo corre borrando estatuas.
X
We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.
I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountaintops.
Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin between my hands.
I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.
Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?
The book fell that is always turned to at twilight
and my cape rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.
Always, always you recede through the evenings
towards where the twilight goes erasing statues.
W. S. MERWIN
XII
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.
You undermine the horizon with your absence.
Eternally in flight like the wave.
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.
You gather things to you like an old road.
You are peopled with echoes and nostalgic voices.
I awoke and at times birds fled and migrated
that had been sleeping in your soul.
W. S. MERWIN
XIII
I have gone marking the atlas of your body
with crosses of fire.
My mouth went across: a spider, trying to hide.
In you, behind you, timid, driven by thirst.
Stories to tell you on the shore of evening,
sad and gentle doll, so that you should not be sad.
A swan, a tree, something far away and happy.
The season of grapes, the ripe and fruitful season.
I who lived in a harbor from which I loved you.
The solitude crossed with dream and with silence.
Penned up between the sea and sadness.
Soundless, delirious, between two motionless gondoliers.
Between the lips and the voice something goes dying.
Something with the wings of a bird, something of anguish and oblivion.
The way nets cannot hold water.
My toy doll, only a few drops are left trembling.
Even so, something sings in these fugitive words.
Something sings, something climbs to my ravenous mouth.
Oh to be able to celebrate you with all the words of joy.
Sing, burn, flee, like a belfry at the hands of a madman.
My sad tenderness, what comes over you all at once?
When I have reached the most awesome and the coldest summit
my heart closes like a nocturnal flower.
W. S. MERWIN
XIV
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 tightly
as a cluster of fruit, 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.
The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I can contend only against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and 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.
Cling to me as though you were frightened.
Even so, at one time a strange shadow 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 butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.
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 gray 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.
I go so far as to think 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.
W. S. MERWIN
XV
Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.
Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía.
Mariposa de sueño, te pareces a mi alma,
y te pareces a la palabra melancolía.
Me gustas cuando callas y estás como distante.
Y estás como quejándote, mariposa en arrullo.
Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:
déjame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.
Déjame que te hable también con tu silencio
claro como una lámpara, simple como un anillo.
Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.
Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.
Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente.
Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.
Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.
Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.
XV
I like for you to be still: it is as though you were 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 were 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 were absent,
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it's not true.
W. S. MERWIN
XVII
Thinking, tangling shadows in the deep solitude.
You are far away too, oh farther than anyone.
Thinking, freeing birds, dissolving images,
burying lamps.
Belfry of fogs, how far away, up there!
Stifling laments, milling shadowy hopes,
taciturn miller,
night falls on you face downward, far from the city.
Your presence is foreign, as strange to me as a thing.
I think, I explore great tracts of my life before you.
My life before anyone, my harsh life.
The shout facing the sea, among the rocks,
running free, mad, in the sea-spray.
The sad rage, the shout, the solitude of the sea.
Headlong, violent, stretched towards the sky.
You, woman, what were you there, what ray, what vane
of that immense fan? You were as far as you are now.
Fire in the forest! Burn in blue crosses.
Burn, burn, flame up, sparkle in trees of light.
It collapses, crackling. Fire. Fire.
And my soul dances, seared with curls of fire.
Who calls? What silence peopled with echoes?
Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude,
hour that is mine from among them all!
Hunting horn through which the wind passes singing.
Such a passion of weeping tied to my body.
Shaking of all the roots,
attack of all the waves!
My soul wandered, happy, sad, unending.
Thinking, burying lamps in the deep solitude.
Who are you, who are you?
W. S. MERWIN
XVIII
Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorus on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.
The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.
Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.
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 vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.
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.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.
The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.
W. S. MERWIN
XX
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, "The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance."
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
W. S. MERWIN
LA CANCIÓN DESESPERADA
* * *
Emerge tu recuerdo de la noche en que estoy.
El río anuda al mar su lamento obstinado.
Abandonado como los muelles en el alba.
Es la hora de partir, oh abandonado!
Sobre mi corazón llueven frías corolas.
Oh sentina de escombros, feroz cueva de náufragos!
En ti se acumularon las guerras y los vuelos.
De ti alzaron las alas los pájaros del canto.
Todo te lo tragaste, como la lejanía.
Como el mar, como el tiempo. Todo en ti fue naufragio!
Era la alegre hora del asalto y el beso.
La hora del estupor que ardía como un faro.
Ansiedad de piloto, furia de buzo ciego,
turbia embriaguez de amor, todo en ti fue naufragio!
En la infancia de niebla mi alma alada y herida.
Descubridor perdido, todo en ti fue naufragio!
Te ceñiste al dolor, te agarraste al deseo.
Te tumbó la tristeza, todo en ti fue naufragio!
Hice retroceder la muralla de sombra,
anduve más allá del deseo y del acto.
Oh carne, carne mía, mujer que amé y perdí,
a ti en esta hora húmeda, evoco y hago canto.
Como un vaso albergaste la infinita ternura,
y el infinito olvido te trizó como a un vaso.
Era la negra, negra soledad de las islas,
y allí, mujer de amor, me acogieron tus brazos.
Era la sed y el hambre, y tú fuiste la fruta.
Era el duelo y las ruinas, y tú fuiste el milagro.
Ah mujer, no sé cómo pudiste contenerme
en la tierra de tu alma, y en la cruz de tus brazos!
Mi deseo de ti fue el más terrible y corto,
el más revuelto y ebrio, el más tirante y ávido.
Cementerio de besos, aún hay fuego en tus tumbas,
aún los racimos arden picoteados de pájaros.
Oh la boca mordida, oh los besados miembros,
oh los hambrientos dientes, oh los cuerpos trenzados.
Oh la cópula loca de esperanza y esfuerzo
en que nos anudamos y nos desesperamos.
Y la ternura, leve como el agua y la harina.
Y la palabra apenas comenzada en los labios.
Ése fue mi destino y en él viajó mi anhelo,
y en él cayó mi anhelo, todo en ti fue naufragio!
Oh sentina de escombros, en ti todo caía,
qué dolor no exprimiste, qué olas no te ahogaron.
De tumbo en tumbo aún llameaste y cantaste
de pie como un marino en la proa de un barco.
Aún floreciste en cantos, aún rompiste en corrientes.
Oh sentina de escombros, pozo abierto y amargo.
Pálido buzo ciego, desventurado hondero,
descubridor perdido, todo en ti fue naufragio!
Es la hora de partir, la dura y fría hora
que la noche sujeta a todo horario.
El cinturón ruidoso del mar ciñe la costa.
Surgen frías estrellas, emigran negros pájaros.
Abandonado como los muelles en el alba.
Sólo la sombra trémula se retuerce en mis manos.
Ah más allá de todo. Ah más allá de todo.
Es la hora de partir. Oh abandonado!
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Poetry of Pablo Neruda by Pablo Neruda, Ilan Stavans. Copyright © 2003 Pablo Neruda and Fundación Pablo Neruda. Excerpted by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
continued
XII: THE RIVERS OF SONG
I. Carta a Miguel Otero Silva, en Caracas (1949)
Letter to Miguel Otero Silva, in Caracas (1949)
V. To Miguel Hernández, Murdered in the Prisons of Spain
XIII: NEW YEAR'S CHORALE FOR THE COUNTRY IN DARKNESS
VIII. Chile's Voices XIV. I Recall the Sea XV. There's No Forgiving XVII. Happy Year to My Country in Darkness
XIV: THE GREAT OCEAN
IV. The Men and the Islands V. Rapa Nui VIII. The Oceanics IX. Antarctica XI. La muerte
Death XII. The Wave XVII. The Enigmas XXI. Leviathan XXIII. Not Only the Albatross
XIV: I AM
I. The Frontier (1904)
III. The House VI. The Traveler (1927)
VII. Far from Here X. The War (1936)
XI. Love
from THE CAPTAIN'S VERSES/
LOS VERSOS DEL CAPITÁN (1951-1952)
LOVE
In You the Earth The Queen The Potter September 8
Tus manos
Your Hands
Tu risa
Your Laughter The Fickle One The Son
THE FURIES
The Hurt
El sueño
The Dream Oblivion You Would Come
LIVES
The Mountain and the River The Flag Little America Epithalamium
La carta en el camino
Letter on the Road
from ELEMENTAL ODES/
ODAS ELEMENTALES (1952-1957)
The Invisible Man Oda a la alcachofa Ode to the Artichoke Ode to the Artichoke Oda al átomo Ode to the Atom
Oda a la crítica
Ode to Criticism
ri0Ode to Numbers Ode to the Past Ode to Laziness Ode to the Earth Ode to My Suit Ode to Sadness Ode to Wine
NEW ELEMENTAL ODES
Oda a la crítica (II)
Ode to Criticism (II)
Oda al dicdonario
Ode to the Dictionary Ode to the Seagull Ode to Firefoot
Oda a Walt Whitman
Ode to Walt Whitman
THIRD BOOK OF ODES
Ode to Bees Ode to Bicycles Ode to a Village Movie Theater Ode to Age Ode to a Stamp Album Ode to Maize Ode to the Double Autumn
Oda al viejo poeta
Ode to an Aged Poet
from EXTRAVAGARIA/
ESTRAVAGARIO (1957-1958)
To Rise to the Sky . . .
Pido silencio
I Ask for Silence I'm Asking for Silence And the City Now Has Gone Repertoire With Her Point Fear
Cuánto pasa en un día
How Much Happens in a Day Soliloquy at Twilight V
Horses We Are Many To the Foot from Its Child
Aquí vivimos
This Is Where We Live Getaway The Unhappy One Pastoral Bestiary Autumn Testament
from VOYAGES AND HOMECOMINGS/
NAVEGACIONES Y REGRESOS (1957-1959)
Ode to Things Ode to the Chair
from ONE HUNDRED LOVE SONNETS/
CIEN SONETOS DE AMOR (1957-1959)
MORNING
III
IV
IV VI
IX
IX XI XVI XVII XXVII
MIDDAY
XXXIV
XXXIV XXXIX XL XLVII
XLVIII
XLVIII L
LIII
EVENING
LV LIX LXIII
LXXVI
LXXVI
NIGHT
LXXX XC XCI XCV XCVII C
fromp0 SONG OF PROTEST/
CANCIÓN DE GESTA (1958-1968)
IV. Cuba Appears VI. Ancient History XI. Treason XII. Death XIX. To Fidel Castro XXII. So Is My Life XXVII. Caribbean Birds XXIX. No me lo pidan
Do Not Ask Me XXXV. The "Free" Press XL. Tomorrow Throughout the Caribbean
from THE STONES OF CHILE/
LAS PIEDRAS DE CHILE (1959-1961)
History The Bull Solitudes The Stones of Chile The Blind Statue
Buey
Ox Theater of the Gods
Yo volveré
I Will Return The Ship The Creation The Turtle
Las piedras y los pájaros
The Stones and the Birds
Al caminante
To the Traveler Stones for María
Nada más
Nothing More
from CEREMONIAL SONGS/
CANTOS CEREMONIALES (1959-1961)
THE UNBURIED WOMAN OF PAITA
Prologue I. The Peruvian Coast II. The Unburied Woman III. The Sea and Manuelita IV. We Will Not Find Her V. The Absent Lover VI. Portrait VII. In Vain We Search for You VIII. Material Manuela IX. The Game IX. Riddle XI. Epitaph XII. She XIII. Questions XIV. Of All Silence XV. Who Knows XVI. Exiles I Don't Understand XVII. The Loneliness XVII. The Flower XIX. Goodbye XX. The Resurrected Woman XXI. Invocation XXII. Now We Are Leaving Paita
THE BULL
I II III IV V
VI VII s22VIII IX
CORDILLERAS
I II III IV V
VI
CATACLYSM
I II III IV V
VI VII VIII IX X
XI XII XIII
LAUTRÉAMONT RECONQUISTADO
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
LAUTRÉAMONT RECONQUERED
I II III IV V
VI
OCEAN LADY
I II III IV V
VI VII VIII IX X
XI
from FULLY EMPOWERED/
PLENOS PODERES (1961-1962)
0Deber del poeta
The Poet's Obligation The Word Ocean The Sea It Is Born Planet
Serenata
Serenade To Wash a Child Ode to Ironing To the Dead Poor Man Goodbyes Spring To Don Asterio Alarcón, Clocksmith of Valparaíso The Night in Isla Negra Past
El pueblo
The People
Plenos poderes
Fully Empowered
from ISLA NEGRA/
MEMORIAL DE ISLA NEGRA (1962-1964)
I. WHERE THE RAIN IS BORN
The First Journey The Father The First Sea The South Sex
La poesía
Poetry Shyness Swan Lake The Human Condition Superstitions The Rooming House on the Calle Maruri
II. THE MOON IN THE LABYRINTH
Loves: Terusa (I)
Loves: Terusa (II)
Bread-Poetry My Crazy Friends First Travelings Opium in the East Monsoons October Fullness Lost Letters
i0III. CRUEL FIRE
Ay! Mi ciudad perdida
Oh, My Lost City
Tal vez cambié desde entonces
Perhaps I've Changed Since Then Revolutions The Unknown One Insomnia Goodbye to the Snow Tides Exilio Exile
IV. THE HUNTER AFTER ROOTS
Brother Cordillera What Is Born with Me Appointment with Winter The Hero The Forest Night Mexican Serenade Para la envidia To Envy
V. CRITICAL SONATA
Ars Magnetica To Those at Odds Day Dawns Solitude It Is Not Necessary Memory The Long Day Called Thursday What We Accept Without Wanting To
El futuro es espacio
The Future Is Space
from ART OF BIRDS/
ARTE DE PÁJAROS (1962-1965)
Migracíon
Migration
PAJARINTOS
Wandering Albatross American Kestrel Guanay Cormorant Slender-Billed Parakeet Gray Gull Magellanic Woodpecker
INTERMISSION
Chilean Lapwing Chilean Mockingbird
PAJARANTES
Dodobird
from A HOUSE IN THE SAND/
UNA CASA EN LA ARENA (1956-1966)
Amor para este libro
Love for This Book
from LA BARCAROLA/
LA BARCAROLA (1964-1967)
The Watersong Ends
from THE HANDS OF DAY/
LAS MANOS DEL DÍA (1967-1968)
I. Guilty XL. In Vietnam LVIII. El Pasado
The Past LX. Verb
from WORLD'S END/
FIN DEL MUNDO (1968-1969)
VII
The Seeker
XI
The Sadder Century
from SEAQUAKE/
MAREMOTO (1968)
Maremoto Seaquake Starfish i0Jaiva Farewell to the Offerings of the Sea
from STILL ANOTHER DAY/
AÚN (1969)
VI VII XII
XVII
XVII XX XXVIII
from THE FLAMING SWORD/
LA ESPADA ENCENDIDA (1969-1970)
XVIII. Someone
from STONES FROM THE SKY/
LAS PIEDRAS DEL CIELO (1970)
I II V
XI
XI XIII XV XIX XXIII
XXVIII
XXVIII
from BARREN TERRAIN/
GEOGRAFÍA INFRUCTUOSA (1969-1972)
Numbered
from THE SEPARATE ROSE/
LA ROSA SEPARADA (1971-1972)
Men II Men IX Men X
Los hombres XI
Men XI Men XIV
from A CALL FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF NIXON AND PRAISE FOR THE CHILEAN REVOLUTION/INCITACIÓN AL NIXONICIDIO Y ALABANZA DE LA REVOLUCIÓN CHILENA (1972-1973)
I. I Begin by Invoking Walt Whitman II. I Say Goodbye to Other Subjects V. The Judgment VII. Victory IX. I Call upon You XVIII. Come with Me XVIII. Portrait of the Man XXV. Against Death XXX. Mar y amor de Quevedo
The Sea and the Love of Quevedo XXXII. September 4, 1970
from THE SEA AND THE BELLS/
EL MAR Y LAS CAMPANAS (1971-1973)
Buscar
To Search I Am Grateful My Name Was Reyes I Will Tell You A Small Animal It Rains This Broken Bell
from 2000/
2000 (1971)
I. The Masks IV. La tierra
The Earth IX. Celebration
from ELEGY/
ELEGÍA (1971-1972)
XIV par
from THE YELLOW HEART/
EL CORAZÓN AMARILLO (1971-1972)
I Still Get Around Love Song Reject the Lightning Disasters Morning with Air
El tiempo que no se perdió
Time That Wasn't Lost Suburbs
from WINTER GARDEN/
JARDÍN DE INVIERNO (1971-1973)
The Egoist
Gautama Cristo
Gautama Christ Modestly With Quevedo, in Springtime Winter Garden In Memory of Manuel and Benjamín Animal of Light
Un perro ha muerto
A Dog Has Died La estrella The Star
from THE BOOK OF QUESTIONS/
LIBRO DE LAS PREGUNTAS (1971-1973)
I VII
IX
IX X
XI XXI
XXXIX
XXXIX XLI XLV LXV LXXII
from SELECTED FAILINGS/
DEFECTOS ESCOGIDOS (1971-1973)
Triste canción para aburrir a cualquiera
Sad Song to Bore Everyone
El Gran Orinador
The Great Urinator
HOMAGE:
FOURTEEN OTHER WAYS OF LOOKING AT PABLO NERUDA
MIGUEL ALGARÍN
Puerto Rico, Puerto Pobre [Song of Protest]
I Come from the South [Song of Protest]
APRIL BERNARD
From My Journey [The Sea and the Bells]
ROBERT BLY
I Wish the Woodcutter Would Wake Up [Canto General]
The Strike [Canto General]
Ode to the Watermelon [Voyages and Homecomings]
RAFAEL CAMPO
XLIV [One Hundred Love Sonnets]
LXVI [One Hundred Love Sonnets]
XCIV [One Hundred Love Sonnets]
MARTÍN ESPADA
The Celestial Poets [Canto General]
In Salvador, Death [Song of Protest]
Octopi [Seaquake]
EDWARD HIRSCH
Ode to the Book I [Elemental Odes]
Ode to the Book II [Elemental Odes]
JANE HIRSHFIELD
0
Ode to Time [Elemental Odes]
GALWAY KINNELL
I Explain a Few Things [Residence on Earth]
PHILIP LEVINE
Ode to Salt [Elemental Odes]
W. S. MERWIN
V. So That You Will Hear Me [Twenty Love Poems]
XVI. In My Sky at Twilight [Twenty Love Poems]
PAUL MULDOON
Ode to a Hare-Boy [Elemental Odes]
GARY SOTO
House [Ceremonial Songs]
MARK STRAND
Ode to the Smell of Firewood [New Elemental Odes]
Ode to a Pair of Socks [New Elemental Odes]
Ode to Enchanted Light [Third Book of Odes]
JAMES WRIGHT
Toussaint L'Ouverture [Canto General]
Bibliography
Spanish Editions Translations into English Biographical and Critical Works
Notes on Neruda's Life and Poetry
Acknowledgments
Index of First Lines