Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair Dual Language Edition (Penguin Classics)

This's my 4th book for #24in48readathon, and my first Pablo Neruda, although I have read quite a few poems of Neruda. I didn't enjoy most of the poems except 'Tonight I Can Write'. That was riveting. But, my love for Neruda hasn't changed. I still look forward to reading 'Odes to Common Things'.

A pesar de lo bello de algunos poemas y del reconocerle a Neruda su habilidad para escribir este libro con tan solo veinte años, me ha dejado con un sinsabor —esta es una observación meramente subjetiva—. No comparto la manera en la que idealiza el amor romántico dentro de esta obra. Siento que el realismo que me hubiese gustado leer en los versos, me impidió disfrutar a cabalidad el poemario, hasta el punto en el que tuve que pausar la lectura casi por un año, para luego retomarla.

i get why neruda is so acclaimed i love his poetry. yes this is basically a collection of his poetry simping over a woman but it’s also so so so beautiful, and he really evokes that feeling of yearning; painting an image of her (love and exaltation of his love) but also probing at it (”who are you, who are you”, “your presence is foreign, as strange to me as a thing”); uncovering the ideas of distance, longing and solitude (”why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when i am sad and feel you are far away?”) (and Not like astrophil sorry sidney... tho that’s probably cos this is more contemporary). the vibes are truly immaculate (best time to read: alone, slipping into night, rain). to me, his poetry’s most striking feature is his use of metaphor: he can create the most beautiful and unexpected links between ideas (“sometimes i get up early and my soul is wet”). even the eroticism seems almost spiritual (drunk with pines: “my garment of kisses trembles [...] quick and slow, in the energy under the sky”) use of repetition is highly effective, particularly in create a crescendo effect, as is the exclamations he uses; his poetry is dynamic, evocative, dramatic. he skews towards natural imagery in his poetry, to great poetic and romantic (haha) impression. even in translated english his poetry flows beautifully; i tried reading the spanish out loud just for the lols and the fact that i felt so touched by words i didn’t even understand speaks for itself. borrowed this frm the library and the cover is quite sus looking so i only read it at home but it made the vibes better. almost never say this but these are poems i probably will revisit at another point in my life (maybe when i fall in love or get my heart broken?? who knows) favourite poems (tho tbh every one is good these are jst personal favourites): - the light wraps you - so that you will hear me - i remember you as you were: “dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul” - we have lost even - almost out of the sky: “cloudless girl” - i hv gone marking: jst thinking of great gatsby from “i who lived in a harbour from which i loved you. / the solitude crossed with dream and with silence”. - thinking, tangling shadows: “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. [...] thinking, burying lamps in the deep solitude. / who are you, who are you?” - here i love you - tonight i can write: “tonight i can write the saddest lines” “i no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe i love her” and of course, a song of despair

I keep trying to enjoy Neruda's love poems, or at least the language of them, but the 'women' of his poems are all "silent", "taciturn", or "sad and gentle doll[s]". He's not professing love to them but to himself, in the grand tradition of so many similarly self-indulgent "love" poems.

“Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche... Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso... Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos... De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos... Su voz, su cuerpo claro, sus ojos infinitos... Aunque este sea el último dolor que me causa... Y estos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo” - XX, Pablo Neruda

Poezija mi nije jača strana,ali ima neke istine u ovome. Dirljivo na svoj način.

التشبيهات جيده لكن أعتقد المشكلة فى الترجمة اه دعيني أتذكر كيف كنت آنذاك ، عندما لم تكونى بعد قد وجدت هكذا كان مصيرى و فيه سافر اشتياقى، و فيه سقط اشتياقى، فيك غرق كل شيء! اه يا مثوى الحطام، فيكى سقط كل شيء

"I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Love is so short, and oblivion so long."

3.5 stars. Most of the beauty appears to have been lost in translation. I fail to understand the appeal of this particular text, but Neruda is gifted to the core. I'd give this another try in the near future.

Solamente me gustan Para mi corazón..., Me gustas cuando callas... y Puedo escribir los versos...