Cien sonetos de amor

[Jack of Hearts]

Recently this reader has spent a lot of time with Cien sonetos de amor by Pablo Neruda. In the english translation some of them were pretty hard going. Thankfully it was a library book and it was the dual language version-some Spanish speaker had penciled in more precise translations for comparison.

Has anybody else read them? What do you think? Sonnet XXVII was by far this reader's favorite and frankly one of the most amazing poems he's ever read. It must be incredible in its original Spanish. A few others grabbed the eye- Sonnet XXXIII, which is the first one in the 'Melodia' segment, contained a bit of greatness. Mostly, Neruda liked to employ earthy images, guitars, moons, hands, wheat, the color green and fog. There's also extensive mention of mouths, bodies and hair. Some of them read a little bit insincere in the English, but that might have been a dirty translation up to no good about it.

Would love to speak to a Spanish speaker about these poems.

Here's a question for the poetry buffs out there (this reader is poetry ignorant and shouldn't be allowed to touch your books): do sonnets in Spanish scan the same as they would in English? That's not to say that the Neruda sonnets adhere to form after they're translated- but before the translation, are they proper sonnets? How does 'stress' work in Spanish?








J

[Jack of Hearts]

Well the rules say a stanza is fine to share, so here's the first stanza of soneto XXVII:

Desnuda eres tan simple como una de tus manos,
lisa, terrestre, mínima, redonda, transparente,
tienes líneas de luna, caminos de manzana,
desnuda eres delgada como el trigo desnud








J

[billl]

Ha, I've been typing something up, I guess I began shortly after you put those lines up!

[billl]

I am not a poet, and I am not a poetry buff. I do like to read a poem now and then though (perhaps I am 15% of the way to being a buff), and I've studied about them in high school as well in the university (achieving success in a class called Introduction to Poetry, sorry, don't mean to brag...).

I also am not reasonably described as a "Spanish speaker", although I do have some ability in that regard (I used to be bold enough to describe myself as "intermediate", but I've lost some of the habits). I might resort to it on occasion still, because it is commonly spoken where I live, but those occasions are rare, embarrassing (or should be), and would immediately end in the presence of an actual bi-lingual person. However, when it comes to reading, I probably still am fairly described as "upper-intermediate", and I have in the past done some volunteer translation for a Cuban website.

Anyhow, I was surprised that no real Spanish speaker jumped in to answer this question. Perhaps one will show up soon, as usually happens once I start an experiment in comunicación. Until then, here's what I can offer.

1. The Sonnet is a broader thing than I had realized, and it underwent evolution. I "knew" already that there were two main types, Italian, and Shakespearean--but I didn't know that there was quite a bit beyond this. Specifically, I had thought that "iambic pentameter" was a near rock-solid requirement, with just a little wiggle room for effect. Turns out that "fourteen lines" is the only rock-solid thing about it--although the more common variations make it seem less than a free-for-all, with (it turns out) some arrangements being more popular in different languages and periods in history.

2. In fact, Spanish, as a Romance language, seems to have a tradition of employing hendecasyllable (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hendecasyllable) (as opposed to iambic pentameter). That is a link worth clicking on, I think. The Spanish Wikipedia page on the topic of the sonnet (http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soneto)actually describes it as having 14 lines of 11 beats each. Discussion of the "English Sonnet" (and the eventual mention of Shakespeare) clocks in at a humbling third place in this entry's discussion of the sonnet in other countries.

3. The Spanish Wikipedia page only mentions one peculiarity about Neruda's use of the Sonnet, citing him as an example of a poet who wrote un-rhymed sonnets.

4. Finally, looking at Sonnet 27, here's the first two lines in the original Spanish:


Desnuda eres tan simple como una de tus manos, 

lisa, terrestre, mínima, redonda, transparente,

Leaving aside the rhythm, I can see that the first line has 16 beats and the second one has 15 beats. I checked a few other lines, and they also varied in number (the seventh line "desnuda eres enorme y amarilla" has 13 beats). I tried to apply the hendecasyllable meter to these first two lines (ignoring the beats left over after the first eleven), and it isn't how the poem "reads" naturally. I can't rule it out as a possible way of reading it, though, the more I look at it--but I simply don't have enough knowledge about pronunciation and the poetic tradition of the Spanish language. (But the "como una" in the first line would seem pretty weird to me...). Still, there's the extra and irregular number of beats.

The number of lines matches the traditional sonnet in these poems, but as far as I can tell, he has otherwise taken liberties. (However, I might just be making some fundamental error here, about counting beats in Spanish--perhaps there's some poetic license about the pronunciation of this or that word, like with contractions in English or something? I don't think so, but... as mentioned, I'm absolutely ready for a Spanish-speaking poetry fan to set this straight. Maybe JCamilo and his Portuguese can be summoned?)

I know that this write-up looks perhaps overly-reliant on Wikipedia, and I think it'd be great if someone could add a little (or a lot) more about all of this--especially someone who is at least a poet, a genuine poetry buff, a genuine Spanish-speaker, or best of all more than one of those.

Beyond Wikipedia, though, I did search on the Spanish google for information about this collection of poems, or an essay about Neruda and sonnets, and so on, but I had trouble finding discussion of his use of meter--which might hint at there being nothing unusual about it, perhaps? Or perhaps the commentary/discussion I encountered was just focussed on the other aspects... In this essay (http://www.neruda.uchile.cl/critica/hloyola.html) (about three aspects of his writing during the time he wrote 100 sonnets--contradiction; his third wife; and autobiography), one of his poems, called "Regresó el Caminante" is described as being written in "endecasílabos blancos" which probably means un-rhymed hendecasyllable. I have tried in vain to find out if this particular poem is a sonnet or not. It is from a collection released three years after "100 sonnets", called "Plenos poderes". In any case, that's as close as I got--I couldn't track down the actual poem online. But it at least is an instance of this particular meter being paired (I think) with un-rhymed lines in a poem by Neruda. Someone more skilled could maybe get further.

Anyhow, I'm thinking this and the Wikipedia stuff eventually adds up to something interesting, or at least worth looking at. It was certainly interesting for me to look at, and do something with Spanish online again (a little more satisfying than my on-the-street bumblingo).

[Jack of Hearts]

billl, that gets this reader's vote for response of the year.

So, if it was understood correctly, this reader now knows that a sonnet in Spanish is 14 lines of 11 syllables each. Are 'beats' and 'syllables' the same thing, then? In high school they made us do the horsey hoof thing to learn iambic pentameter.

Anyway, what's mostly evident is that Pablo Neruda, at least with Cien sonetos de amor, broke from form. This reader found many of the sonnets to be... er, not so good (again, perhaps due to translation) but there were a few moments of absolute and remarkable brilliance in them pages.

Perhaps you can quickly read sonetos XXII, XXVII, XXXIII, and LXXIV (in 'Tarde').

Yeah, the sonnets are all dedicated to Matilde Urrutia, Neruda's third wife- and she wrote a book about living with him. One of the poems in 'Tarde' is about what she should do if he dies, and that she should not disconnect from life because, to him, that would be like dying twice. Forget which sonnet, check LXX through C if you're curious. If this reader remembers correctly, the sonnets were written in the mid 1950's- it makes this reader wonder what Neruda was writing in the 60's, up to his death in 1973. This reader got the impression that the sonnets were... evolutionary in some way, in terms of his style/career as a poet. Again, probably because some of them were rough going.

Well, it seems they don't rhyme either. Somehow this reader already knew that, though... hmm...


"endecasílabos blancos"

So this means unrhymed with 11 syllables per line. It would be very surprising if any of the sonnets maintained hendecasyllable though. Seems as though all Neruda stuck with was 14 lines, sans rhyme, sans syllable count.

That's some great input, billl. Thanks so much. This reader doesn't really like 'structure' or 'form' or 'syllables' or 'having good taste in poetry' so he likes that aspect of these poems. Your reward is the the four sonetos he picked out for you. Go read 'em, and come back here and say if you agree that they're the cream of the crop.






J

[billl]

I actually was excited about reading those four you recommended, having spent some time with the topic of Neruda, looking at a few lines, one poem at least briefly, and messing around with Spanish for a while. Thanks, that's a good amount, checking out the cream of the crop sounds perfect (I guess it's the top 25% of the 15% I would typically enjoy).

(Oh, yeah--i used "beats" instead of "syllables", I think that is what I was taught ages ago. Spanish uses "silabos", and for some reason I thought it was "beats" in English, maybe I misremembered.)

[Maximilianus]

The most usual type of sonnet in Spanish is made up of verses of 11 metric syllables, most usually stressed on syllables 6 and 10, or also on syllables 4, 8 and 10. Here I am speaking of main stress. There may be secondary stresses scattered elsewhere in the verses, as it happens in English as well. These stress patterns are not precisely rigid. You can combine them, or you can place the main stress on different syllables than the above mentioned.

The development of sonnet rhyming patterns in Spanish has undergone a few changes throughout the history of Spanish poetry. Basically, the most typical form of Spanish sonnet, ranging from the times of Garcilaso de la Vega up to Modernism, follows an ABBA - ABBA rhyming pattern for the first 8 verses and a little more flexible combination for the final 6 verses, whose rhyming patterns may be CDE - CDE, CDE - DCE or CDC - DCD.

Modernism introduced the ABAB rhyming pattern for the first 8 verses, among some other innovations such as the introduction of the French type of verse called Alejandrino (Alexandrine) which is a verse comprised of 14 metric syllables divided into 2 hemistichs of 7 syllables each, stressed on syllables 6 and 13 respectively.

Now you may wonder about the difference between metric syllables and grammatical syllables. Well, it's a little hard to explain even for most native Spanish speakers, but basically a metric syllable allows certain poetic liberties unthinkable by pure grammatical rules. The most famous poetic liberties in Spanish are "sinalefa," "hiato," "diéresis" and "sinéresis." All of them are quite a subject in themselves, but they all contribute to the beauty of sounds in Spanish poetry, so if one likes Spanish and Spanish poetry there should be a time when one just has to learn about them. Of course, it's imperative to master Spanish grammar first.

Another curiosity introduced during Modernism is the "sonetillo" (little sonnet) or also called "soneto de arte menor" (meaning something like "minor art sonnet"), which is a variant comprised of verses of 8 or less than 8 syllables... short verses, that is.

Also some contemporary authors, like my countryman Jorge Luis Borges, adapted the Shakespearean sonnet to Spanish, and others have written sonnets that don't follow any rhyming pattern at all... sonnets of free verses, I mean.

And there are several other interesting structures that may produce a cool sonnet. For example, Cervantes introduced the "soneto con estrambote" and the "soneto dialogado" (the latter conveying to the structure of a conversation in the form of a sonnet).

Nowadays, there are those who grab any given 14 sentences, place them all together on one page, and then they tell you "hey, look, I wrote a sonnet." I personally do not agree with this. Since I am a traditionalist, I prefer a sonnet to follow a certain rhythm given by a certain stress pattern, and of course I have to see a rhyming pattern, mostly because I love rhymes. Anyway, I guess this is a matter of taste.

[Maximilianus]

I also understand that the sonnet is an Italian creation. If I don't remember incorrectly, the Petrarchan sonnet must be the most, or at least one of the most, classical versions.

[billl]

Hey, Max, that's great stuff! I will soon be checking out the 4 poems Jack recommended, and researching the poetic liberties you mentioned in your fourth paragraph.


"sinalefa," "hiato," "diéresis" and "sinéresis."

Do you think you could look at those first two lines from Soneto 27 (quoted above by Jack and me) and see if these "poetic liberties" you've mentioned are coming into play? Or if Neruda is breaking away from tradition in regards to meter...

[Maximilianus]

Now I have to hit the road, but I'll be back later with a humble view on that :wave:

[Jack of Hearts]

Wow, this thread is getting some seriously great input. Come back Max, tell us what's going on with these sonnets! This reader is dying to know how close the English translation for soneto XVII.






J

[Maximilianus]

Back!

Spanish's poetic licenses apply to vowel sounds and are mostly perceived in reciting more than in writing. Neruda's sonnet 27 is a nonrhyming sonnet where most verses are Alexandrine (14 syllables). Of the first 4 verses, 3 may be perceived as featuring "sinalefa" (synalepha) and "sinéresis" (synaeresis).

Verse 1: "Desnuda eres tan simple como una de tus manos,"

A grammatical syllable separation renders 16 syllables, reduced to 14 (Alexandrine verse) if we apply a synalepha in "Desnuda eres" and in "como una." Synalepha is the reduction of 2 grammatical syllables into one, between 2 words respectively ending and beginning in a vowel sound. For example "Desnuda eres" is grammatically separated into "Des - nu - da - e - res" whereas the application of synalepha would render a "Des - nu - dae - res" separation, therefore reducing the syllable count by one. The same process may be applied in "como una." However, both pairs of words present a little problem. Both "eres" and "una" are stressed on the first syllable, that is the syllable containing the second part of the synalepha, making the recitation sound a little awkward in such places. Synalepha sounds more natural when none of the intervening syllables are stressed. So, in this case we speak of a "Sinalefa compleja" (complicated synalepha) or "Sinalefa opcional" (optional synalepha). Most authors recommend not to apply synalepha in this doubtful cases, whereas for other authors it's optional. To my personal taste, I prefer the sound of a synalepha where the involved syllables are unstressed. It sounds more natural to me.

Verse 2: "lisa, terrestre, mínima, redonda, transparente,"

15-syllable verse. Synalepha isn't possible because there's no word ending in a vowel sound immediately before another word beginning in a vowel sound. Besides, no word contains a diphthong that might be broken to add up an extra syllable, which is a poetic license called "diéresis" (diaeresis). An example of application of diaeresis could be "süave" (the diacritics above the "u" imply that the diphthong "ua" has been broken, rendering a "su - a - ve" syllable separation instead of the grammatical "sua - ve." Thus we have a 2-syllable word converted into a 3-syllable word. When pronounced, the 3-syllabic version sounds a little slower because of the pause introduced by the diaeresis, and therefore a little less natural according to Spanish phonology.

Verse 3: "tienes líneas de luna, caminos de manzana,"

15 grammatical syllables, but in this case we often apply a synaeresis in "líneas" to determine a final count of 14 metric syllables. Synaeresis is the creation of an artificial diphthong where there's no grammatical diphthong, therefore reducing the syllable count by one. For example, "líneas" is normally separated as "lí - ne - as" in writing, whereas the fluid pronunciation of the word may easily sound as "lí - neas" in most native Spanish speakers' mouths. We can say that synaeresis is a very natural feature of Spanish phonology, happening especially in rapid speech. Many grammarians keep yelling that this is wrong, and it is grammatically wrong, but in the field of meter counting poetry is more related to speech than it is to grammar rules, and this is how native speakers do speak... even those with a cultivated speech.

Verse 4: "desnuda eres delgada como el trigo desnudo."

In "como el" we have a beautifully natural synalepha, where both involved syllables "mo" and "el" are unstressed.



Another important detail is that Spanish features other types of synalepha, absent in these verses.

In poetic theory synalepha is still regarded as the most frequent poetic license in Spanish poetry, but in practice it is not often seen as a poetic license anymore, but rather as a natural process to be considered in metric syllable counting. What would really be a poetic license nowadays is not to apply synalepha in some cases, due to rare whims by certain poets when they want to convey an irregular syllable count for some reason. In such cases, they should somehow specify that their count is departed from the standard (for those interested in metric analysis of course; not so much for plain poetry readers).

[billl]

sonetos XXII, XXVII, XXXIII, and LXXIV (in 'Tarde').


I went ahead and just read the Spanish, but that isn't quite as effortless as I'd like--even the presence of just a couple words that I need to check in the dictionary ends up adding an air of language study that can take a while to evaporate. I think it's worth it, for the sake of word order, word choice, and flow; but still, it isn't my language. Unfortunately, I only found a translation for XXVII (I think I didn't look for one of them though). Anyhow.

XXII made me smile, very sexy. It succeeds in burrowing into meanings/implications of sex, interesting poem.

I liked XXVII for similar reasons, and I think I actually prefer it for the more significant inclusion of nature. I found the use of the hand to be interesting, but also a little "out of nowhere", like with the apple in the other one. These are mysteries that have some pay-off though (the apple, obviously points to "the apple", I got that one, and I have ideas about the hand), and probably more pay-offs than I realize.

XXXIII is too difficult for me to get a handle on just yet. I have a feeling I might not like it as much as the others, but can't be sure. But it means that I'm going to have to return to it a few times and get it bit by bit (ie. minute by minute), rather than having it unfairly ground into a chore.

LXXIV was my favorite of the four. The lovers are perhaps central, but Nature is the main character, its movement and mysteries the most powerful part for me.

Thanks for the recommendation, Jack, it was fun and rewarding to take a look at these poems. I haven't read any of the others, but I'm not surprised that you'd find these the best, and worth mentioning and recommending.

Still haven't looked at those terms Max mentioned, but still interested in them.

[cafolini]

All the poetry of Pablo Neruda is strictly of this earth, and extremely sensual. Many have tried to categorize him as a Romantic without success. There are no nebulous starts or ends like you might find in Becquer, who has been categorized as a post-romantic lyricist but still not quite out of Romanticism.
Neruda is a unique trip.

[Jack of Hearts]

Yeah, Max's post is super meaty.

In Spanish, when one word ends in a vowel and the next starts with a vowel, these vowels can get combined into one syllable. This is called Synalepha and there are variations of it based on whether or not any of the combined syllables are stressed.

Diaeresis is the breaking up of two vowel sounds in one syllable into two different syllables (in other words, it creates/adds a syllable). This seems like the opposite of Synaeresis, where two syllables of vowel sounds are combined to one syllable of two vowel sounds.

So, wait a second- this reader is having trouble understanding the difference between 'synalepha' and 'synaeresis.' Can someone clear this up? Is 'Synalepha' the same thign as 'synaeresis' only different in that it combines two words? (It makes a dipthong out of two vowel sounds from two different words?)

Also, for the English translation of soneto XVII (aka the best sonnet), what is the best approximate translation for some of these phrases?

Caminos de manzana- apple pathways or paths of apples or roads of apples?

What about 'Desnuda eres delgada como el trigo desnudo'? Isn't 'el' the definite article in Spanish? And 'trigo' means 'wheat', but does the 'el' specifically refer to a partitive aspect of the concept of 'wheat'? (Indeed, does Spanish even have partitive articles?)

What is the best translation of this line?

The Tapscott translation is "Naked you are as naked as a naked grain of wheat." but that seems very contributory on the translator's part! (It's lovely though).

Is a better translation "Naked you are slender like naked wheat?" - this is this reader's own translation, but he doesn't speak Spanish- it's based off of a working knowledge of French and some looked up Spanish vocab plugged into it.

Lastly, and this one might just be for Max because it could be only he is in a position to know, but is 'Synalepha' used in conversation Spanish or is it strictly for poetics?








J

[Jack of Hearts]

Hold on a second there, william...


I liked XXVII for similar reasons, and I think I actually prefer it for the more significant inclusion of nature. I found the use of the hand to be interesting, but also a little "out of nowhere", like with the apple in the other one. These are mysteries that have some pay-off though (the apple, obviously points to "the apple", I got that one, and I have ideas about the hand), and probably more pay-offs than I realize.

Part of your response is very confusing to this reader. Just what did you make of soneto XVII anyways? What do you mean by a specific reference to the apple? Care to offer your interpretation of this one? You can refer to specific lines if you want, this reader has the translation right here so he can keep up.

Soneto LXXIV, to this reader, didn't seem to be about nature- it seemed to talk about nature and disguise itself to be a poem about nature, but take another look at it- doesn't it seem to be more a poem about 'goodbye' or hurtful, necessary 'parting'? Its opening imagery is about a road wet with rain water, and its last imagery is about nature crying farewell or something... look again, see if you agree or if this reader is contributing too much of his own idea to the reading.






J

[cafolini]

Naked you are as slender as the naked sprigs of wheat

[Maximilianus]

So, wait a second- this reader is having trouble understanding the difference between 'synalepha' and 'synaeresis.' Can someone clear this up? Is 'Synalepha' the same thing as 'synaeresis' only different in that it combines two words? (It makes a diphthong out of two vowel sounds from two different words?)
Like you said, synalepha takes place between two immediately consecutive words, whereas synaeresis takes place within a word.


Also, for the English translation of soneto XVII (aka the best sonnet), what is the best approximate translation for some of these phrases?

Caminos de manzana- apple pathways or paths of apples or roads of apples?
I prefer "apple pathways." I feel it sounds more poetic.


What about 'Desnuda eres delgada como el trigo desnudo'? Isn't 'el' the definite article in Spanish? And 'trigo' means 'wheat', but does the 'el' specifically refer to a partitive aspect of the concept of 'wheat'? (Indeed, does Spanish even have partitive articles?)
Same as in English, articles in Spanish may be either definite or indefinite. The article "el" is equivalent to the definite English article "the." Therefore "el trigo desnudo" means "the naked wheat."


What is the best translation of this line?

The Tapscott translation is "Naked you are as naked as a naked grain of wheat." but that seems very contributory on the translator's part! (It's lovely though).

Is a better translation "Naked you are slender like naked wheat?" - this is this reader's own translation, but he doesn't speak Spanish- it's based off of a working knowledge of French and some looked up Spanish vocab plugged into it.
It would be sharper if you said "... like the naked wheat."


Naked you are as slender as the naked sprigs of wheat
This is an accurate translation too, though more specific because of the "as (...) as (...)" structure and the specifying word "sprigs."


Lastly, and this one might just be for Max because it could be only he is in a position to know, but is 'Synalepha' used in conversation Spanish or is it strictly for poetics?
Synalepha happens all the time as a feature of speech, especially noticed in rapid speech. Remember when in English we say "don't" instead of "do not" because it's faster to pronounce in rapid speaking? Well, synalepha is a similar way of being in a speaking hurry, considered by poetic analysis because poetry is meant to be recited. Now, we can consider the possibility of a more solemn recitation, perhaps by solemn reciters inclined to take their time to say every word, which might give the poem a deeper effect, and in which case all possible synalephas determined by a standard analysis would be broken within that specific form of slow recitation. To sum up, synalephas occur in normal and rapid speech.

[billl]

Hold on a second there, william...



Part of your response is very confusing to this reader. Just what did you make of soneto XVII anyways? What do you mean by a specific reference to the apple? Care to offer your interpretation of this one? You can refer to specific lines if you want, this reader has the translation right here so he can keep up.

Soneto LXXIV, to this reader, didn't seem to be about nature- it seemed to talk about nature and disguise itself to be a poem about nature, but take another look at it- doesn't it seem to be more a poem about 'goodbye' or hurtful, necessary 'parting'? Its opening imagery is about a road wet with rain water, and its last imagery is about nature crying farewell or something... look again, see if you agree or if this reader is contributing too much of his own idea to the reading.






J

Good questions--for some reason I ended up looking at poem XII instead of XXII. This dates back to my original looking into this on the Dec. 23rd--I don't know why, but I ended up looking at that poem. Maybe it was one of the ones mentioned on some webpage or (more likely) I simply misread the number from your first mention of it, and then had it imprinted in my brain when I looked at them again today. I have to be more careful reading Roman numerals, apparently.

Anyhow, today I looked at number 12 for the second time, and wrote about it. (Maybe it was one of the links I found in my browser's history...?) It not only has the apple in it, but it also has a "favorite" word from my student days ("plena")--and both apple and "plena" are featured in numbers 12 and 74. I've gotten the impression that apples are everywhere in this collection, but this ends up being a rather convoluted coincidence for me, at least in regards to "plena".

Anyhow, XII is where the apple reference came from. And, like the hand in XXVII, it sort of stuck out "like a sore thumb" to me. Are there more subtle reasons for the apple than the Biblical reference? There's the seeds inside, I guess, so something about reproduction. And it's food, and a decent representative of Nature. Since I'm reading these few in isolation, I haven't gotten the hang of the apple's significance for Neruda yet. This situation was more pronounced in the case of the hand in XXVII, but XXVII seemed a much better poem to me. I mentioned the importance of nature because it would end up being even more important in my favorite of the bunch, LXXIV.

As far as LXXIV being about nature, I didn't mean to say that the poem was simply about nature. I felt that the "saying good-bye", though, was only being done by nature. The lovers are only mentioned as being blind to a process of disconnection, it didn't occur to me that they might be blind to each other, or that the disconnection would be occurring between them. I guess I read the poem's surface, and didn't look further. I saw the lovers in the same boat, basically, with nature receding and hiding in its mysterious transformation to near-metallic, wintery, depth/death--nature saying good-bye to them on its own behalf.

It's true though that the clear path in the opening lines is wet (with tears maybe?) and "cut in full moon" is a phrase that occurs, with "cut" perhaps hinting at a separation. This is the poem I really wanted to find a translation for, because it was the most interesting to me. Could you provide the first 2-4 lines of this one out of the translation you have? Because it might help me figure out what "como si fuera cortado en plena luna" means (literally, it'd be "as if it were cut in full moon"). Perhaps there's an idiom, or I messed up somehow when reading it.

Anyhow, the clear path being "wet" and "cut" is good evidence for there being some implied separation (and perhaps the surrounding poems would suggest the same thing, I don't know). But for me, the path seemed the brightest and most beautiful image in the poem, and I felt or "saw" the two lovers taking that path together, blind to the changes occurring in the natural world around them, perhaps uncomfortable, perhaps in awe of it.

But it'd certainly make sense to see it as analogous to some inexplicable process leading or forcing the partners to part--the reasons being hidden in their nature, I guess? Heh, sounds like something a poet might try to tell a partner (or himself), when I think of it that way. "It's not us, it's nature." Although the "cold dreams" in the middle of the poem might indicate something more sincere than I'm imagining.

Anyhow, those first couple of lines threw me off, I think. The path looked a nice and fleshy way, and I ended up reading the rest of the poem as some huddling against the changes, and probably underestimated the scope of the word "cut", and the mention of Autumn. But isn't it suggested that we see the interior of the (cut in half, apparently?) apple, its flesh, its seed--this fruit that does well in the cooler temperatures of Autumn sometimes...? Good ol' apple!

[Jack of Hearts]

Thank you Max. Nice poet-wolf.

Sorry billl, don't have a translation of soneto LXXIV... read it in the university's library and took journal notes only. As it's the holiday season, the library is closed until past the new year. For some reason, this reader cannot bring himself to purchase the English translations of the sonnets- the only widely available translation is Stephen Tapscott's translation. It's supposedly not very good and 25 dollars is a lot of money to pay for 'not very good' (also, having seen this volume in the store two days ago, this reader will tell you it's kept in shrink-wrap so you can't read it before you buy it. Jerks.).

Assuming the library book was Tapscott's translation as well, although the binding made it look much older- would be curious to know for sure.

Man, you really like apples. Actually, that's probably a really good 'pick out.' The apple does seem recurrent in some of the sonnets, but this reader doubts it has very deep religious connotations for Neruda (other than perhaps 'feminity' and 'Eve,' however that works out).

Yeah, the imagery of the cut apple in LXXIV was pretty memorable as well. Dunno... the whole work is very visceral and of the earth, which is actually pretty refreshing in the sonnet... but this reader is going to have to maintain that there are in fact love sonnets before they are nature sonnets, and these sonnets are in fact dedicated to Matilde Urrutia, so this reader mostly reads them as Neruda's expressions of love to her that bank heavily on earthy imagery. This is to Neruda's favor.

If you've got a big library nearby, and you're still curious about these, this reader encourages you to go! But he can't encourage you to buy the volume, not when so much of it is freely available on the internet (and indeed all of it is available in Spanish). And not when the primary two translators seem to have a heavy hand in it. Because you have a background in Spanish, this reader thinks your best bet for these is working through the Spanish language version by yourself (for free).

!@#! shrink-wrap.








J

[Jack of Hearts]

Heh, sounds like something a poet might try to tell a partner (or himself), when I think of it that way.

Forgot to mention, found this a really amusing thought on a couple of levels at least.

Anyways, it seems our readings are different in this way: this reader thinks Neruda is using nature as a metaphor for an unwanted parting in LXXIV, and you seem to think nature is personified and telling the lovers, who are together, goodbye (possibly a metaphor for aging together?). Now this reader is dying for a second look.

Maybe Max the poet-wolf will translate it for us and advise us! Because soneto LXXIV is freely available on the internet in Spanish...

Also, curious about the apple now. Might end up buying the damn book after all.







J

EDIT: billl, can you say more about your thoughts on the hand in soneto XXVII?

[billl]

I just now tried again with the simple search terms "neruda 74", and the first hit I got was an amateur translation:

http://redroom.com/member/terence-clarke/blog/pablo-nerudas-love-sonnet-74-a-translation

[Jack of Hearts]

Ok, here's the first line:




The road wet with August rain

And here is the last couple of lines:




Everything comes together, alloyed. The leaves
are hidden, winter masks its origin,
and we are simply blind, ceaselessly and solely,

subject only to the stealthy lane
of movement, good-bye, of the journey, of the road,
good-bye, of nature's fallen tears.




(Translation by Terrence Clarke (http://redroom.com/member/terence-clarke/blog/pablo-nerudas-love-sonnet-74-a-translation))

So, it says that the 'we' in this poem (presumably two lovers) are subject to 'the stealthy lane of movement, goodbye, of the journey, of the road.' Do you think the 'stealthy lane of movement' through nature is time? And that it affects both of the lovers as they age together? Is that nature's goodbye?

This reader's initial reading from several days ago was of parting- maybe 'the journey' and 'of the road' refers to that in some way? Isn't this part of the 'Tarde' section, which refers to 'Late' or something? Maybe it's death. Something about the reading of this poem, to this reader, suggests sadness. But he doesn't know now. Maybe they are together. A serious meditation on mortality or parting seems slightly out of place in a collection of love poems. But Neruda did it at least one other time in the collection... thoughts?







J

[billl]

I haven't read around the collection, but that's significant if he has included another one (or more) about parting or mortality. Back when I originally read it, it simply didn't enter my mind that it might be about such a thing (amor has a dark side, but I didn't expect it to be addressed for whatever reason, I was expecting wooing, romance, and so on). Context is maybe part of this, then--although this translation we've been looking at is presented as a stand-alone on a web-page...

Anyhow, I know sometimes some people end up wondering "where did the love go", and so maybe this is about that. I didn't catch the possibility for whatever reason, but I did like the stuff about some of nature's ways being hidden, maybe winter and autumn being especially mysterious times.

The poem maybe adds up better if we see it as a break-up, but even if the road has two lanes, I see them right next to each other. And that is maybe what made it difficult for me to realize the bummer-interpretation (despite some of the other elements), especially somewhere in the middle of a collection of love poems. I don't mean to say that it's a mistake to describe this sort of separation as a wet path that the lovers are forced down, but the image comes with its side-effects.

As pointed out, the idea that the poem might be about nature receding from us in winter seems, besides the skill of the imagery, to be sort of an odd thing for it to be about. In 100 love poems there might be room for it ("My darling: What's the deal with this weather?"), but the idea that it might be about mortality gives it some extra weight. Still, in the end, I can't help but think that the poem's "bigger picture" might've been lost on me, whether it'd be my fault, the poet's, or just the way it goes sometimes.

[Jack of Hearts]

Still, in the end, I can't help but think that the poem's "bigger picture" might've been lost on me, whether it'd be my fault, the poet's, or just the way it goes sometimes.

This reader felt exactly this as he read the entire collection, which is why your take on it has cause much doubt on the accuracy of his own. We're separated from the material by half a century, an entire language and a foreign country. Even still, this reader would have to say, at parts, this collection defies those difficulties and presents a tangible beauty for anyone to understand.

Also, this reader is no expert on poetry, so anyone could say he's unqualified to talk about these sonnets if they wanted to. Whatever. It should be noted that Jack of Hearts has enough insolence/arrogance to try to make sense out of things even when he lacks the proper tools to do so.

billl, did you see the post edit about the hand in soneto XVII? Wanted to know what you think about that, because you mentioned it somewhere earlier and this reader didn't get the full gist of what you meant. The hand in XVII was used for some beautiful imagery (in the Tapscott translation, anyways).







J

[Jack of Hearts]

All the poetry of Pablo Neruda is strictly of this earth, and extremely sensual. Many have tried to categorize him as a Romantic without success. There are no nebulous starts or ends like you might find in Becquer, who has been categorized as a post-romantic lyricist but still not quite out of Romanticism.
Neruda is a unique trip.

This reader mostly agrees with this so far but ignored it the first time around because it's such a large, nonspecific blanket statement about Neruda's body of work. cafolini, have you read any of these sonnets? If so, what did you think of them? If not, what's stopping you? Google them and then come back here and say.







J


EDIT: That is, this reader's interest isn't in the encyclopedia sense of Neruda's work, but in how real people encounter these poems, read them, feel about them, react to them, etc. The individual experience of them.

[billl]

billl, did you see the post edit about the hand in soneto XVII? Wanted to know what you think about that, because you mentioned it somewhere earlier and this reader didn't get the full gist of what you meant. The hand in XVII was used for some beautiful imagery (in the Tapscott translation, anyways).

I was just saying that, like with the apple getting a role in 12, the hand in 27 was unexpected as an image/metaphor (for the woman). I liked it and everything, but had initial suspicions (is the hand a little arbitrary?, a gimmick?). At then end of the poem, it works great, but the middle part of the poem was what caught my attention, where things stretched into nature and the sky.

[JCamilo]

Borges is the one that sladered Neruda for being a second rate romantic poet (Borges despised his sentimentalism). Now, there is works of Neruda that have nothing to do with love - his political works, founded o Whitman's face. Which I must say is his main trademark.

This sonnet (or the others) is like his Odes, are not very formal. It is not just the rhyme breaking that is in his work, but he often tried to use traditional forms with some freedom, to avoid what he called some short of "diseased body". Some say it was just a show-off, a way to show he knew the technique and could go as close as using it and avoiding it.

I prefer his his free versing, as much he is not bad with the sonnets, specially because spanish language was not very flexible (a bit caged by the siglo of oro poets) and Neruda free version gave it a lot of possiblities, alongside with Borges brevity and previous, Ruben Dario which kind of gave them both a little of each.

[Myshkin.]

Really nice thread! I'm a spanish native speaker. Better versed in english poetry, though. And that's not much to start with.

I've always found Neruda a bit anti-poetic. Like he's writting elegant prose instead of actual all-out poetry. Doesn't seem to take any chance with language. A very conservative and soft approach in a language not all that poetic.

I promise to read Cien Sonetos de Amor again and come back with fresher thoughts in a few days. Have you Jack alredy read Veinte Poemas de Amor? I remember it much more colorful. It's shorter, and Neruda wrote it 35 years before this one. A lot of interesting poetry written in spanish, in any case.

[Jack of Hearts]

Is that a pic of Dylan from the Rolling Thunder Revue?!

No, haven't read that yet. Reading poetry that's been translated has been a bit of a cruel experience. That said, this reader isn't adverse to the idea reading more of Pablo Neruda's works (his other interest being Federico Garcia Lorca).

But this particular thread is about Cien sonetos de amor by Pablo Neruda. So far this reader has concluded a few things from this discussion:

1. Sonnet XVII is the best (ok, it's just this reader's favorite. Although LXXIV is starting to give it a run for its money).

2. billl is uncommonly bright.

3. Max taught us some cool things about spoken Spanish and poetry. This reader has been thinking about these devices for several days now. Perhaps what we should never forget about poetry is that it's meant to be spoken- and because it's meant to be spoken it carries several implications in that sense. It's more human in that way.

Jump on in Myshkin. Your input is more than welcome. Many poets get accused of being too prosaic these days, it seems- maybe on your side of the language it reads this way, but this reader thinks the translators have often been heavy handed in making these poems... poetic. Consider the translation of the last line of the first stanza for soneto XVII:

Desnuda eres delgada como el trigo desnudo.

which is translated by Tapscott as:

Naked you are as naked as a naked grain of wheat.

This reader counts fourteen syllables in the English- did the translator purposely force this line into alexandrine form? As for the comparison, shouldn't it be more directly translated as just a metaphor (ie, the 'as' before the second 'naked' has not genesis in the Spanish version). It's questions like these that makes this reader think we've got a busy translator at play.


Ah, billl, this reader remembers sharing that reaction at first regarding the hand. 'Oh, you're going to describe thy lady's hand because it's a love sonnet and it's what we do,' he remembers thinking. But after engaging with the poem, he actually really likes that imagery now. Sounds like you do, too.

JCamilo, this reader thinks that part of the appeal with these sonnets is that they break from form. Maybe it's not a direct comparison, but last night this reader was reading the 'Dark Lady' sonnets by Shakespeare and had the thought that the content was mostly great but all this form, structure, funny language, etc. was stifling. Like there was better way to get at these great ideas/meaning/etc. But that commentary about Shakespeare is probably way off base, this reader is no scholar, so take it in the light context it was delivered in.


J

[cafolini]

This reader mostly agrees with this so far but ignored it the first time around because it's such a large, nonspecific blanket statement about Neruda's body of work. cafolini, have you read any of these sonnets? If so, what did you think of them? If not, what's stopping you? Google them and then come back here and say.







J


EDIT: That is, this reader's interest isn't in the encyclopedia sense of Neruda's work, but in how real people encounter these poems, read them, feel about them, react to them, etc. The individual experience of them.

I practically read all of Neruda whern I was young. I liked it very much and still do. One thing I should say is that Neruda perhaps tried hard to translate dialetical materialism into poetry, since he believed in Marxism and had high hopes for the Russian revolution.

[Jack of Hearts]

I practically read all of Neruda whern I was young. I liked it very much and still do.

Care. Say more.


One thing I should say is that Neruda perhaps tried hard to translate dialetical materialism into poetry, since he believed in Marxism and had high hopes for the Russian revolution.

Don't care. No more of this.

cafolini, what do you think of soneto XVII? Here's a link to it:

http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/pablo_neruda/poems/15707

Do you like this one?







J

[Maximilianus]

Thank you Max. Nice poet-wolf.
Welcome! The wolf pic was found by an old friend. Glad you like it.


I just now tried again with the simple search terms "neruda 74", and the first hit I got was an amateur translation:

http://redroom.com/member/terence-clarke/blog/pablo-nerudas-love-sonnet-74-a-translation


Ok, here's the first line:




The road wet with August rain

And here is the last couple of lines:




Everything comes together, alloyed. The leaves
are hidden, winter masks its origin,
and we are simply blind, ceaselessly and solely,

subject only to the stealthy lane
of movement, good-bye, of the journey, of the road,
good-bye, of nature's fallen tears.




(Translation by Terrence Clarke (http://redroom.com/member/terence-clarke/blog/pablo-nerudas-love-sonnet-74-a-translation))

So, it says that the 'we' in this poem (presumably two lovers) are subject to 'the stealthy lane of movement, goodbye, of the journey, of the road.' Do you think the 'stealthy lane of movement' through nature is time? And that it affects both of the lovers as they age together? Is that nature's goodbye?

This reader's initial reading from several days ago was of parting- maybe 'the journey' and 'of the road' refers to that in some way? Isn't this part of the 'Tarde' section, which refers to 'Late' or something? Maybe it's death. Something about the reading of this poem, to this reader, suggests sadness. But he doesn't know now. Maybe they are together. A serious meditation on mortality or parting seems slightly out of place in a collection of love poems. But Neruda did it at least one other time in the collection... thoughts?


Maybe Max the poet-wolf will translate it for us and advise us! Because soneto LXXIV is freely available on the internet in Spanish...
Mr. Clarke's translation is correct as a whole, though a little imprecise in some sections... I'll take a stab at it as soon as I log back in http://smiles.kolobok.us/personal/hi.gif


3. Max taught us some cool things about spoken Spanish and poetry. This reader has been thinking about these devices for several days now. Perhaps what we should never forget about poetry is that it's meant to be spoken- and because it's meant to be spoken it carries several implications in that sense. It's more human in that way.
Glad I was of help... and I agree with your thoughts :)

[Myshkin.]

"Naked you are slender like naked wheat" sounds much better than "Naked you are as naked as a naked grain of wheat" to me. "Naked you are as naked" is a rather artificial stament, against the very nature of Neruda's romantic-naturalistic pointview, giving a smooth, sensual modernist comparison between woman's nudity and both nature and woman itself.

Then, this sonet is a very good example of what I think are his virtues and faults. It includes very beautiful lines (3, 4, 5, 6). Then some questionable lines (7, 8, 9, 10). 9: "Naked you are small as one of your nails". While this line is a size comparison, the next one is an extension in form of the previous, but is a shape comparison, returning in the twelfth to the size. You might get a visual imagine out of these verses, but the writting seems imperfect to me. The same complain I have against lines 9-10 can be applied to lines 1-2. "Naked you are as simple as one of your hands". In my opinion he sacrifices too much for the sake of comparison.

Don't think spoken poetry has nothing to do with this. Subvocalization and intuition should give you all the nuance of Neruda's poetry at any given time. But, something the english readers should really take into account is that in spanish, syllables appear at a constante rate regardless of the stress, which make complex rhytmic pattern like iambic pentameter something very unspontaneous. Often there is only one stressed syllable per verse.

PD: Yep. Dylan '75!

[JCamilo]

JCamilo, this reader thinks that part of the appeal with these sonnets is that they break from form. Maybe it's not a direct comparison, but last night this reader was reading the 'Dark Lady' sonnets by Shakespeare and had the thought that the content was mostly great but all this form, structure, funny language, etc. was stifling. Like there was better way to get at these great ideas/meaning/etc. But that commentary about Shakespeare is probably way off base, this reader is no scholar, so take it in the light context it was delivered in.


J


I do think he manages to get good results but fall shortly because the sonnet is already a good form. He does not goes as well as Ruben Dario, Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barrett, Petrarca, Camoes, Vinicius de Moraes or other really great sonnet writers.

However, his Odes are something else. In the sonnets he is a pretty pond, in the odes an ocean. But really that does not take anything from Neruda, that he have minor good works besides the great works only make a strong case for him. Try to compare those sonnets with

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche está estrellada,

y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos."
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.

En las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.

Oir la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.

Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
La noche esta estrellada y ella no está conmigo.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.

De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Porque en noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Aunque este sea el ultimo dolor que ella me causa,
y estos sean los ultimos versos que yo le escribo.

the rythim, the flow... so much more original and longing.

[Maximilianus]

With all due humility, I believe my translation of sonnet 74 better reflects the original poem in several verses. Here's my take.

Neruda's Love Sonnet 74:


The road wet by the August rain
glimmers as if cut in the full moon,
in full clarity of the apple,
in the middle of the autumn fruit.

Fog, space or sky, the vague net of the day
grows with cold dreams, sounds and fish,
the islands' steam battles with the province,
trembles the sea over Chile's light.

Everything remelts as metal. The leaves
hide, winter masks its ancestry
and only blind we are, ceaselessly, only.

Only subjected to the stealthy riverbed
of the movement, good-bye, of the journey, of the road:
good-bye, nature's teardrops fall.

[Maximilianus]

For reference, original Spanish version:


El camino mojado por el agua de Agosto
brilla como si fuera cortado en plena luna,
en plena claridad de la manzana,
en mitad de la fruta del otoño.

Neblina, espacio o cielo, la vaga red del día
crece con fríos sueños, sonidos y pescados,
el vapor de las islas combate la comarca,
palpita el mar sobre la luz de Chile.

Todo se reconcentra como el metal, se esconden
las hojas, el invierno enmascara su estirpe
y sólo ciegos somos, sin cesar, solamente.

Solamente sujetos al cauce sigiloso
del movimiento, adiós, del viaje, del camino:
adiós, caen las lágrimas de la naturaleza.

[Jack of Hearts]

Ah, Max, your translation is like a fine cigar or a splash of bourbon. This reader is trying to get a moment to comment on this thread like it deserves- it may have to wait until the day after tomorrow. But thanks for doing that, Max! Very nice job.







J

[cafolini]

I do think he manages to get good results but fall shortly because the sonnet is already a good form. He does not goes as well as Ruben Dario, Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barrett, Petrarca, Camoes, Vinicius de Moraes or other really great sonnet writers.

However, his Odes are something else. In the sonnets he is a pretty pond, in the odes an ocean. But really that does not take anything from Neruda, that he have minor good works besides the great works only make a strong case for him. Try to compare those sonnets with

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche está estrellada,

y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos."
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.

En las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.

Oir la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.

Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
La noche esta estrellada y ella no está conmigo.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.

De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Porque en noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Aunque este sea el ultimo dolor que ella me causa,
y estos sean los ultimos versos que yo le escribo.

the rythim, the flow... so much more original and longing.

I loved Nreuda so much in my youth precisely because he did not write with form in mind. Form is intrinsic to any writing and is unavoidable. Who would deny that there is form to Neruda. It would be stupid. But it is his form, not someone else's. Why? Because he care diddley for other than meaning. And that's what Neruda is. Strictly a poet of meaning. Let people like Shakespeare and his imitators beg the issue.

[Maximilianus]

Ah, Max, your translation is like a fine cigar or a splash of bourbon. This reader is trying to get a moment to comment on this thread like it deserves- it may have to wait until the day after tomorrow. But thanks for doing that, Max! Very nice job.
Welcome and thank you too for the kind compliments, Jack. Take your time and ask what you need http://smilies-gifs.com/hola-adios/13hola-adios.gif

[Jack of Hearts]

"Naked you are slender like naked wheat" sounds much better than "Naked you are as naked as a naked grain of wheat" to me. "Naked you are as naked" is a rather artificial stament, against the very nature of Neruda's romantic-naturalistic pointview, giving a smooth, sensual modernist comparison between woman's nudity and both nature and woman itself.

Then, this sonet is a very good example of what I think are his virtues and faults. It includes very beautiful lines (3, 4, 5, 6). Then some questionable lines (7, 8, 9, 10). 9: "Naked you are small as one of your nails". While this line is a size comparison, the next one is an extension in form of the previous, but is a shape comparison, returning in the twelfth to the size. You might get a visual imagine out of these verses, but the writting seems imperfect to me. The same complain I have against lines 9-10 can be applied to lines 1-2. "Naked you are as simple as one of your hands". In my opinion he sacrifices too much for the sake of comparison.

Don't think spoken poetry has nothing to do with this. Subvocalization and intuition should give you all the nuance of Neruda's poetry at any given time. But, something the english readers should really take into account is that in spanish, syllables appear at a constante rate regardless of the stress, which make complex rhytmic pattern like iambic pentameter something very unspontaneous. Often there is only one stressed syllable per verse.

PD: Yep. Dylan '75!


Sort of agree with the first line... this reader can't really give an opinion about Neruda's point of view because he can't read Spanish and is unacquainted with the 'emotive' meaning of Spanish words. Even though there's no justification for translating it this way, this reader likes reading the line "Naked you are as slender as a naked grain of wheat" because of its rhythmic properties. Read it aloud- it just feels good.

You're right that the imagery is untidy like that- but that's ok with this reader (who is biased, and loves this sonnet). It doesn't cohere like that on a local level, but it's serving the overall message so finely. This is probably just a matter of taste, though. And, to be fair, this reader thought many of the sonnets were quite 'imperfect.'

Again, this reader is so separated from the Spanish version that he can't even properly imagine it... this whole endeavor as really opened his eyes to the beauty of this language, language in general, and how people use language.

Ok, here's a present:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQeWN7WwJqQ


I do think he manages to get good results but fall shortly because the sonnet is already a good form. He does not goes as well as Ruben Dario, Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barrett, Petrarca, Camoes, Vinicius de Moraes or other really great sonnet writers.

However, his Odes are something else. In the sonnets he is a pretty pond, in the odes an ocean. But really that does not take anything from Neruda, that he have minor good works besides the great works only make a strong case for him. Try to compare those sonnets with

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche está estrellada,

y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos."
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.

En las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.

Oir la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.

Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
La noche esta estrellada y ella no está conmigo.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.

De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Porque en noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Aunque este sea el ultimo dolor que ella me causa,
y estos sean los ultimos versos que yo le escribo.

the rythim, the flow... so much more original and longing.

This reader can't read Spanish. Also, he wants this thread to remain about the sonnets themselves- but, that said, if you're willing to translate this ode, this reader is definitely willing to read it and make a comparison.

We have a difference in taste, though. This reader is quite happy with Neruda breaking from form, and doesn't so much like the 'sound' of how some of those other guys wrote.


I loved Nreuda so much in my youth precisely because he did not write with form in mind. Form is intrinsic to any writing and is unavoidable. Who would deny that there is form to Neruda. It would be stupid. But it is his form, not someone else's. Why? Because he care diddley for other than meaning. And that's what Neruda is. Strictly a poet of meaning. Let people like Shakespeare and his imitators beg the issue.

Agree with this very much, cafolini, other than the part Neruda being a 'poet of meaning'- no idea what that's true. No idea wtf that means, actually. But nicely put. Did you read sonet XVII yet? It's really good.


Neruda's Love Sonnet 74:


The road wet by the August rain
glimmers as if cut in the full moon,
in full clarity of the apple,
in the middle of the autumn fruit.

Fog, space or sky, the vague net of the day
grows with cold dreams, sounds and fish,
the islands' steam battles with the province,
trembles the sea over Chile's light.

Everything remelts as metal. The leaves
hide, winter masks its ancestry
and only blind we are, ceaselessly, only.

Only subjected to the stealthy riverbed
of the movement, good-bye, of the journey, of the road:
good-bye, nature's teardrops fall.


This really is beautiful, Max. Thank you for translating it. We've had a lengthy discussion about this sonnet. Soneto LXXIV is this reader's second favorite of the whole collection. The imagery with the moon is striking. The road... good heavens, this is just very fine. billl offered up an interpretation that's competing with this reader's initial one right now. But after much thought, this reader still reads this as an unwanted goodbye between two people with nature as an intermediary metaphor, not as nature saying goodbye to two unparted lovers. The 'parting' seems to be the explanation as to why this reader feels this is such a sad poem. But he's no scholar, and can't say that his interpretation is definitively correct- it's just the best he can do with it.





J

[cafolini]

Care. Say more.



Don't care. No more of this.

cafolini, what do you think of soneto XVII? Here's a link to it:

http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/pablo_neruda/poems/15707

Do you like this one?J

You gave me a link for 27, but here you are asking for 17,

No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.

Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,

sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

Of course I like it. And this one is special in the sense that Neruda, like I do, rejects the two-dimensionality of being and existence (esse -> ist. Ist -> ex-ist).
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres (Not esse. Not ist. Not ex-ist)
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía (occurs in earthly three dimensions, geometrically)
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera (no llevo pajaritos en mi alma)

I don't know what else to tell you. He's a poetical physicist.

[Jack of Hearts]

cafolini, this reader has no idea what you're talking about with the 'two-dimensionality' or 'physicist' or anything like that. This reader thinks you've got a lot to say about these poems but he's too stupid to understand your meaning. Maybe you could try explaining those things like you would to a child? That would be more at this reader's this speed.


But the things you've said that have been understood seem to be right on the money.







J

[Jack of Hearts]

Soneto LXXIV is only getting more amazing with each revisit. This thread is much beloved.








J

[cafolini]

Soneto LXXIV is only getting more amazing with each revisit. This thread is much beloved.J

Often it is important to keep repeating the same thing again and again, because the children see it from different angles until they catch up with it.

Now I like to somehow aproach Neruda's point of view regarding love with a quote from Unamuno: It is sad not to love, but it is much sadder not to be able to love. ~ Miguel de Unamuno

Note the slight satire in Neruda's version regarding the rest of the so-called universe.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines



Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars 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, and 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 shattered 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 searches for her as though to go to her.
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. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite 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.

Note: this is not my translation. I don't know who's. I picked it up for its earthly simplicity.

[Jack of Hearts]

Often it is important to keep repeating the same thing again and again, because the children see it from different angles until they catch up with it.

'Catching up with it' seems like a grown up thing to do. Hopefully this reader never catches up with it.












J

[Maximilianus]

Neruda's Love Sonnet 74:


The road wet by the August rain
glimmers as if cut in the full moon,
in full clarity of the apple,
in the middle of the autumn fruit.

Fog, space or sky, the vague net of the day
grows with cold dreams, sounds and fish,
the islands' steam battles with the province,
trembles the sea over Chile's light.

Everything remelts as metal. The leaves
hide, winter masks its ancestry
and only blind we are, ceaselessly, only.

Only subjected to the stealthy riverbed
of the movement, good-bye, of the journey, of the road:
good-bye, nature's teardrops fall.


This really is beautiful, Max. Thank you for translating it. We've had a lengthy discussion about this sonnet. Soneto LXXIV is this reader's second favorite of the whole collection. The imagery with the moon is striking. The road... good heavens, this is just very fine. billl offered up an interpretation that's competing with this reader's initial one right now. But after much thought, this reader still reads this as an unwanted goodbye between two people with nature as an intermediary metaphor, not as nature saying goodbye to two unparted lovers. The 'parting' seems to be the explanation as to why this reader feels this is such a sad poem. But he's no scholar, and can't say that his interpretation is definitively correct- it's just the best he can do with it.





J

Welcome, Jack. I wish I could contribute more to the thread... I'm such a busy guy lately http://smiles.kolobok.us/artists/just_cuz/JC_shakehead.gif Although I have to say that just the translation by itself has been an edifying experience.

[Jack of Hearts]

To Matilde Urrutia,


My beloved wife, I suffered while writing these misnamed "sonnets"; they hurt me and caused me grief, but the happiness I feel in offering them to you is as vast as a savanna. When I set this task for myself, I knew very well that down the right side of sonnets, with elegant discriminating taste, poets of all times have arranged rhymes that sound like silver, or crystal, or cannonfire. But- with great humility- I made these sonnets out of wood; I gave them the sound of that opaque pure substance, and that is how they should reach your ears. Walking in forests or on beaches, along hidden lakes, in latitudes sprinkled with ashes, you and I have picked up pieces of pure bark, pieces of wood subject to the comings and goings of water and the weather. Out of such softened relics, then, with hatchet and machete and pocketknife , I built up these lumber piles of love, and with fourteen boards each I have built little houses, so that your eyes, which I adore and sing to, might live in them. Now that I have declared the foundations of my love, I surrender this century to you: wooden sonnets that rise only because you gave them life.






Oct 1959

[Jack of Hearts]

Not sure about Neruda's career as a 'political poet', but the fact that these sonnets are unknown in english feels like a crime.

They teach us about love. And not that heavenly kind that is virginal, pure, ethereal. These poems teach us about love from the earth up- and if it's going to exist, that's gotta be its best chance. Something made out of mud or thatched reeds...

Something made out of wood.






J

[cafolini]

Not sure about Neruda's career as a 'political poet', but the fact that these sonnets are unknown in english feels like a crime.

They teach us about love. And not that heavenly kind that is virginal, pure, ethereal. These poems teach us about love from the earth up- and if it's going to exist, that's gotta be its best chance. Something made out of mud or thatched reeds...

Something made out of wood.
J

Good points. Neruda was definitely a politician. But uncommonly, he was such out of choice. He recognized politics as genuine, but was never trapped by it, although often trapped in it. He was most of the time able to free himself with a lot of sense and seldom too late.

[Jack of Hearts]

...

Quoi?






J

[Maximilianus]

Pourquoi? :D