If there were only one way I’d prefer to spend a romantic evening, it’d be indulged in sappy love poems. If there were only one man who knew the way to my heart, it’d be Pablo Neruda. Put the two together, and I’m underneath my covers with dim lights, a sleepy conscience, and Cien Sonetos de Amor in my hands.
For all my fellow Spanglish (Spanish and English) speakers and hopeless romantics, this book couldn’t be more suited to our needs.
Pablo Neruda is a Chilean poet who writes Spanish poetry—yes, Spanish poetry—that intertwines the affectionate, earthly, and daily-surrealist-and-political nature of his culture. But you need not worry about knowing the Spanish language. The most appreciated aspect about his book, without doubt, is the sensual joy and fluency of its original Spanish version on the left-hand side, and, at the same time, its accompanied English translation on the right-hand side.
Neruda begins with his manaña poems, which is Spanish for morning. Thirty poems later, he moves onto his mediodía poems, also known as Spanish for afternoon. Another thirty poems later—you guessed it—he ends with his noche poems, the Spanish palabra for night. Each time of day correlates to the imagery that Neruda provides. You may find yourself within the leaping streams and trembling aroma of morning, the crackling daylight and undulant rivers of day, or the sleeping ambers of dream and nocturnal confusions of night.
One hundred poems written solely for one woman—now that’s dedication. Within his words resides a new definition of love: poetic love. Maltilde is no longer a woman, but the spiky passions intertwined with the roots of the forest floor; she is the permanent tenderness implanted into the soils of his grandmother’s garden; she is not loved as if she were gleaming topaz, but she is loved as if they were connected by mind and soul. Neruda’s poems are humble attempts to communicate the intangible— the profound depth of his love and emotion—and to eternalize it with hidden meanings and labyrinths of thought.
So grab your cup of tea and taste Neruda’s poetic warmth—the Chilean experience awaits.
Disfrútalo. (Enjoy.)