9780374513511

Fully Empowered

by ; ;
  • ISBN13:

    9780374513511

  • ISBN10:

    0374513511

  • Edition: 2nd
  • Format: Paperback
  • Copyright: 2001-06-11
  • Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
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Summary

An important collection that includes some of the Nobel Prize winner's own favorite poems. "The Sea" A single entity, but no blood. A single caress, death or a rose. The sea comes in and puts our lives together and attacks alone and spreads itself and sing sin nights and days and men and living creatures. Its essence-fire and cold; movement, movement. Pablo Neruda himself regarded Fully Empowered -- which first appeared in Spanish in 1962 under the title Plenos Poderes -- as a particular favorite, in part because it came out of a most fruitful period in his life. These thirty-six poems vary from short, intense lyrics to characteristic Neruda odes to magnificent meditations on the office of poet, including poems that would undoubtedly claim a place in any selection of Neruda's greatest work. "The People" ("El Pueblo"), about the state of the working man in Chile's past and present, and the most celebrated of Neruda's later poems, completes this reflective, graceful collection.

Author Biography

Pablo Neruda (1904-73), one of the renowned poets of the twentieth century, was born in Parral, Chile. He shared the World Peace Prize with Paul Robeson and Pablo Picasso in 1950, and received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1971.

Table of Contents

". . . Pablo Neruda will be with us in the perilous conquest of our future." --Carlos Fuentes, The New York Times Book Review

Excerpts


Chapter One

    Deber del poeta

A quien no escucha el mar en este viernes

por la mañana, a quien adentro de algo,

casa, oficina, fábrica o mujer,

o calle o mina o seco calabozo:

a éste yo acudo y sin hablar ni ver

llego y abro la puerta del encierro

y un sin fin se oye vago en la insistencia,

un largo trueno roto se encadena

al peso del planeta y de la espuma,

surgen los ríos roncos del océano,

vibra veloz en su rosal la estrella

y el mar palpíta, muere y continúa.

Así por el destino conducido

debo sin tregua oír y conservar

el lamento marino en mi conciencia,

debo sentir el golpe de agua dura

y recogerlo en una taza eterna

para que donde esté el encarcelado,

don de sufra el castigo del otoño

yo esté presente con una ola errante,

yo circule a través de las ventanas

y al oírme levante la mirada

diciendo: cómo me acercaré al océano?

Y yo transmitiré sin decir nada

los ecos estrellados de la ola,

un quebranto de espuma y arenales,

un susurro de sal que se retira,

el grito gris del ave de la costa.

Y así, por mí, la libertad y el mar

responderán al corazón oscuro.

    The Poet's Obligation

To whoever is not listening to the sea

this Friday morning, to whoever is cooped up

in house or office, factory or woman

or street or mine or dry prison cell,

to him I come, and without speaking or looking

I arrive and open the door of his prison,

and a vibration starts up, vague and insistent,

a long rumble of thunder adds itself

to the weight of the planet and the foam,

the groaning rivers of the ocean rise,

the star vibrates quickly in its corona

and the sea beats, dies, and goes on beating.

So, drawn on by my destiny,

I ceaselessly must listen to and keep

the sea's lamenting in my consciousness,

I must feel the crash of the hard water

and gather it up in a perpetual cup

so that, wherever those in prison may be,

wherever they suffer the sentence of the autumn,

I may be present with an errant wave,

I may move in and out of windows,

and hearing me, eyes may lift themselves,

asking "How can I reach the sea?"

And I will pass to them, saying nothing,

the starry echoes of the wave,

a breaking up of foam and quicksand,

a rustling of salt withdrawing itself,

the gray cry of sea birds on the coast.

So, through me, freedom and the sea

will call in answer to the shrouded heart.

    La palabra

Nació

la palabra en la sangre,

creció en el cuerpo oscuro, palpitando,

y voló eon los labios y la boca.

Más lejos y más cerca

aún, aún venía

de padres muertos y de errantes razas,

de territorios que se hicieron piedra,

que se cansaron de sus pobres tribus,

porque cuando el dolor salió al camino

los pueblos anduvieron y llegaron

y nueva tierra y agua reunieron

para sembrar de nuevo su palabra.

Y así la herencía es ésta:

éste es el aire que nos comunica

con el hombre enterrado y con la aurora

de nuevos seres que aún no amanecieron.

Aún la atmósfera tiembla

eon la primera palabra

elaborada

con pánico y gemido.

Salió

de las tinieblas

y hasta ahora no hay trueno

que truene aún con su ferretería

como aquella palabra,

la primera

palabra pronunciada:

tal vez sólo un susurro fue, una gota,

    The Word

The word

was born in the blood,

grew in the dark body, beating,

and took flight through the lips and the mouth.

Farther away and nearer

still, still it came

from dead fathers and from wandering races,

from lands which had turned to stone,

lands weary of their poor tribes,

for when grief took to the roads

the people set out and arrived

and married new land and water

to grow their words again.

And so this is the inheritance;

this is the wavelength which connects us

with dead men and the dawning

of new beings not yet come to light.

Still the atmosphere quivers

with the first word uttered

dressed up

in terror and sighing.

It emerged

from the darkness

and until now there is no thunder

that ever rumbles with the iron voice

of that word,

the first

word uttered--

perhaps it was only a ripple, a single drop,

y cae y cae aún su catarata.

Luego el sentido llena la palabra.

Quedó preñada y se llenó de vidas,

Todo fue nacimientos y sonidos:

la afirmación, la claridad, la fuerza,

la negación, la destrucción, la muerte:

el verbo asumió todos los poderes

y se fundió existencia con esencia

en la electricidad de su hermosura.

Palabra humana, sílaba, cadera

de larga luz y dura platería,

hereditaria copa que recibe

las comunicaciones de la sangre:

he aquí que el silencio fue integrado

por el total de la palabra humana

y no hablar es morir entre los seres:

se hace lenguaje hasta la cabellera,

habla la boca sin mover los labios:

los ojos de repente son palabras.

Yo tomo la palabra y la recorro

como si fuera sólo forma humana,

me embelesan sus líneas y navego

en cada resonancia del idioma:

pronuncio y soy y sin hablar me acerca

el fin de las palabras al silencio.

Bebo por la palabra levantando

una palabra o copa cristalina,

en ella bebo

and yet its great cataract falls and falls.

Later on, the word fills with meaning.

Always with child, it filled up with lives.

Everything was births and sounds--

affirmation, clarity, strength,

negation, destruction, death--

the verb took over all the power

and blended existence with essence

in the electricity of its grace.

Human word, syllable, flank

of extending light and solid silverwork,

hereditary goblet which receives

the communications of the blood--

here is where silence came together with

the wholeness of the human word,

and, for human beings, not to speak is to die--

language extends even to the hair,

the mouth speaks without the lips moving,

all of a sudden, the eyes are words.

I take the word and pass it through any senses

as though it were no more than a human shape;

its arrangements awe me and I find my way

through each resonance of the spoken word--

I utter and I am and, speechless, I approach

across the edge of words silence itself.

I drink to the word, raising

a word or a shining cup;

in it I drink

el vino del idioma

o el agua interminable,

manantial maternal de las palabras,

y copa y agua y vino

originan mi canto

porque el verbo es origen

y vierte vida: es sangre,

es la sangre que expresa su substancia

y está dispuesto así su desarrollo:

dan cristal al cristal, sangre a la sangre,

y dan vida a la vida las palabras.

the pure wine of language

or inexhaustible water,

maternal source of words,

and cup and water and wine

give rise to my song

because the verb is the source

and vivid life--it is blood,

blood which expresses its substance

and so ordains its own unwinding.

Words give glass quality to glass, blood to blood,

and life to life itself.

    Océano

Cuerpo más puro que un ola,

sal que lava la línea,

y el ave lúcida

volando sin raíces.

    Ocean

Body more perfect than a wave,

salt washing the sea line,

and the shining bird

flying without ground roots.

    Agua

Todo en la tierra se encrespó, la zarza

clavó y el hilo verde

mordía, el pétalo cayó cayendo

hasta que única flor fue la caída.

El agua es diferente,

no tiene dirección sino hermosura,

corre pot cada sueño de color,

toma lecciones claras

de la piedra

y en esos menesteres elabora

los deberes intactos de la espuma.

    Water

Everything on the earth bristled, the bramble

pricked and the green thread

nibbled away, the petal fell, falling

until the only flower was the falling itself.

Water is another matter,

has no direction but its own bright grace,

runs through all imaginable colors,

takes limpid lessons

from stone,

and in those functionings plays out

the unrealized ambitions of the foam.

Copyright © 1962 Editorial Losada, S.A., Buenos Aires.

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