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Pablo Neruda: Ode to the Book (II) translated by Wally Swist
Oda al Libro (II)
Libro
hermoso,
libro,
minimo bosque,
hoja
tras hoja,
huele
tu papel a element,
eres
matutino y nocturno,
cereal,
oceamico,
en tus antiguas paginas
cazadores de osos,
fogatas
cerca del Mississippi,
canoas
en las islas,
mas tarde
caminos
y caminos,
revalaciones,
pueblos
insurgents,
Rimbaud como un herido
pez sangriento
palpitando en el lodo,
y la hermosura
de la fraternidaad,
piedra por piedra
sube el castillo humamo,
dolores que etretejen
la firmeza,
acciones solidarias,
libro
occulto
de bosillo
en bosillo,
la,para
clandestine,
estrella roja.
Nosotros
los poetas
caminantes
exploramos
el mumdo,
en cada puerta
mos recibio la vida,
participamos
en la lucha Terrestre,
Cual fue nuestra victoria?
Un libro,
un libro lleno
de contactos humanos,
de camisas,
un libro sin soledad, con hombres
y herramientas,
un libro
es la victoria.
Vive y cae
como todos los frutos,
no solo tiene luz,
no solo tiene
sombra,
se apaga,
se deshoja,
se pierde
emtre las calles,
se desploma em la tierra.
Libro de poesia
de manana,
otra vez
Vuelve
a teer nieve y musgo
en tus paginas
para que las pisadas
o los ojos
vayan grabando
huellas:
de nuevo
describenos el mundo,
los manantiales
entre la espesura,
las altas arboledas,
los planetas
polares,
y el hombre
em los caminos,
em los nuevos caminos,
avanzando
en la selva,
en el agua,
en el cielo,
en la desnuda soledad marina,
el hombre
descubriendo
los ultimos secretos,
el hombre
regresando
con un libro,
el cazador de vuelta
con un libro,
el campesino
arando
con un libro.
Ode to the Book (II)
Book,
beautiful
book,
minimalist forest,
sheet
after sheet,
the smell
of your paper
is elemental,
you are
morning and evening,
grain,
ocean,
in your old pages
bear hunters,
bonfires
along the Mississippi,
canoes
on the islands,
much later
roads
and more roads,
revolutions,
public insurgents,
Rimbaud like a wounded man
bloody fish
palpitating in the mud,
and the beauty
of the fraternity,
stone by stone
the castle of humanity rising,
sorrow interwoven
with firmness
and solidarity,
book
concealed
from pocket
to pocket,
clandestine
lamplight,
red star.
We
the poets
wander
to explore
the world,
at each door
life greeted us,
we participate
in the earthly struggle.
What was our victory?
A book,
a book filled
with human contacts,
with shirts,
a book
without loneliness, with men
and tools,
a book
is the victory.
It lives and opens
like all fruit,
it not only has light,
it not only has shadow,
it turns itself off
and becomes lost
in the streets,
it drops to the ground.
Book of poetry
of tomorrow,
again there will be snow
and moss
on your pages
so that our footsteps
or our eyes
may record footprints:
again describe
the world anew,
the springs
in the thicket,
the tall groves,
the polar planets,
and the man
on the streets,
on the new streets,
advancing
in the jungle,
in the water,
in the sky,
in the naked marine solitude,
the man
discovering
the ultimate secrets,
the man
coming back
with a book,
the hunter returning again
with a book,
the peasant
plowing
with a book.
Translation copyright 2022 Wally Swist. Pablo Neruda’s poem is included in Vox Populi for educational use only.
Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto (1904 – 1973), better known by his pen name and, later, legal name Pablo Neruda was a Chilean poet-diplomat and politician who won the 1971 Nobel Prize in Literature. Neruda became known as a poet when he was 13 years old, and wrote in a variety of styles, including surrealist poems, historical epics, overtly political manifestos, a prose autobiography, and passionate love poems such as the ones in his collection Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair (1924).
Wally Swist (born 1953) is an American poet and writer.
Vox Populi 
I loved books before reading this – now even more.
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