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Pablo Neruda, universal and eternal
poet
BY JOSÉ LUIS
DÍAZ-GRANADOS —Prensa Latina Correspondent—
EXACTLY one century ago, on July 12, 1904 in Parral,
Chile, Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto, the future
poet who at the age of 16 would adopt the pen name
of Pablo Neruda and whose portentous, rotund,
unpredictable and all-embracing writing would
forever alter the lyrical expression of the Spanish
language, was born exactly one century ago, on July
12, 1904 in Parral, Chile.
A
deep-sea fish, a strange whale, a monster of 20th
century poetry, Neruda arrived at the temple of
poetry, knocked down its gates, and twisted the neck
of the swan of the prevailing, affected and full of
itself formalism, in full adolescence, when he came
out with a singular book, Crepusculario
(1923), followed by the highly celebrated Veinte
poemas de amor y una canción desesperada (1924).
He startled readers’ senses with his unusual
rhythms, unexpected meter and surprising phantoms in
his fresh diction.
During his nearly 70 years of life, Neruda wrote 45
original books, from whose contents innumerable
lesser bibliographic works have sprung, and from
which, in its turn, new notebooks, journals and
winged pages have emerged, both in Spanish and other
world languages of the world.
For
example, his book Tercera residencia (1947)
contains independent organisms such as the long,
Quevedo-type poem, Las furias y las penas ,
the epic series España en el corazon, the
legendary Cantos a Stalingrado, and the
oft-recited Canto para Bolívar.
The
same occurs with texts included in the various
sections of Canto general (1950), his “opus
magnum,” which was published in book form before its
inclusion in the complete volume, as is the case
with Alturas de Macchu Picchu, Que despierte el
leñador, Canto general de Chile, América no invoco
tu nombre en vano, and above all, that
fascinating autobiographical narration in verse
titled El fugitivo, in which his poetic
character, “Pablo Neruda,” sings and recounts his
vicissitudes in evading the persecution of President
González Videla until going into exile.
Essential texts of this book have been set to music
by legions in the Americas and the world. The most
famous one is the version by Greek Mikis
Theodorakis.
The
humble peoples of Our America have recited verses of
his Veinte poemas de amor for several
generations, as they have done with Bécquer’s
Rimas or García Lorca’s Romancero gitano.
The most demanding readers and critics are surprised
with each new reading by the portentous verbal
hallucination of Residencia en la tierra, as
occurs when immersed in La tierra baldía de
Eliot or in Anábasis, by Saint-John Perse.
And
all of them love, recite and sing the stanzas of
autumnal love in Los versos del capitán and
Cien sonetos de amor, the joy of living in
Odas elementales, Estravagario and La
barcarola, just as we love and sing the most
beautiful poems of Pavese, Kavafis, Pessoa, Eluard,
Aragon or Machado.
In
times of war, and also times of peace, the hearts of
fighters quake with the poetry of “love armed” in
Tercera residencia, Canto general,
Canción de gesta (the first book of poetry
written in tribute to the Cuban Revolution) or with
being incited to Nixon-cide or to praises of the
Chilean revolution. It shouldn’t be forgotten that
when Che fell in combat in the mountains of Bolivia,
he was devotedly carrying a copy of Canto general
in his backpack.
DIVERSE IN HIS UNITY
Throughout his life, the bard of Parral presented
the most diverse range of particular schools,
structures, themes and cosmos, as if there were 20
poets inside a body named Pablo Neruda: the
neo-Romantic of Veinte poemas de amor, the
surrealist of Tentativa del hombre infinito,
the narrator of El habitante y su esperanza,
the irreverent erotic of El hondero entusiasta,
the desolate and inscrutable writer of
Residencias, the metaphysical one of Tres
cantos materiales, the fighter of Canto a las
madres de los milicianos muertos, the American
epic of La tierra se llama Juan, the
socialist traveler of Las uvas y el viento,
the jubilant singer of Oda al día feliz, the
mischievous child of Estravagario, the
anti-imperialist of Canción de gesta, the
stone-eater of Las piedras de Chile, the
theater chronicler of Joaquín Murieta, the
neo-Classicist of La barcarola, the culinary
artist of Comiendo en Hungría, the pacifist
of La espada encendida and the
memorial-writer of Confieso que he vivido.
To commemorate the centenary of Neruda’s birth,
Chile and the world are celebrating. Book fairs on
three continents are dedicated to him; his poetry
has been re-edited in many languages; his life is
recalled in books, magazines, movies, radio and
television programs, and dramatic interpretations of
his many poems and theater works, especially El
cartero, based on the novel by Chilean Antonio
Skáarmeta. His monotone voice, a perfect imitation
of the monotonous rain showers of Temuco, are
repeated day and night in recordings in diverse
venues throughout Latin America.
Countless poems by Neruda are being printed for
gigantic billboards in subway stations throughout
the continent. It is possible that not a single
poet, in any language or part of the world, has
received a similar apotheosis of fervor. Surely,
Neruda is giving us all a sly wink from the
transparency to which he leapt as a heavenly
narrator on September 23, 1973.
The resonance of this universal tribute to his
centenary will reach that far, to “the other shore
of the sea that has no other shore...”
(José Luis Díaz-Granados is a Colombian writer and
journalist)
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