Navegaciones y Regresos

by Pablo Neruda

2ª edicion 3-11-1971, 142 paginas

Genres: Poetry, Literature

Paperback

First published January 1, 1959

About the author

Pablo Neruda, born Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto in 1904 in Parral, Chile, was a poet, diplomat, and politician, widely considered one of the most influential literary figures of the 20th century. From an early age, he showed a deep passion for poetry, publishing his first works as a teenager. He adopted the pen name Pablo Neruda to avoid disapproval from his father, who discouraged his literary ambitions. His breakthrough came with Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada (Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, 1924), a collection of deeply emotional and sensual poetry that gained international recognition and remains one of his most celebrated works.
Neruda’s career took him beyond literature into diplomacy, a path that allowed him to travel extensively and engage with political movements around the world. Beginning in 1927, he served in various consular posts in Asia and later in Spain, where he witnessed the Spanish Civil War and became an outspoken advocate for the Republican cause. His experiences led him to embrace communism, a commitment that would shape much of his later poetry and political activism. His collection España en el corazón (Spain in Our Hearts, 1937) reflected his deep sorrow over the war and marked a shift toward politically engaged writing.
Returning to Chile, he was elected to the Senate in 1945 as a member of the Communist Party. However, his vocal opposition to the repressive policies of President Gabriel Gonzalez Videla led to his exile. During this period, he traveled through various countries, including Argentina, Mexico, and the Soviet Union, further cementing his status as a global literary and political figure. It was during these years that he wrote Canto General (1950), an epic work chronicling Latin American history and the struggles of its people.
Neruda’s return to Chile in 1952 marked a new phase in his life, balancing political activity with a prolific literary output. He remained a staunch supporter of socialist ideals and later developed a close relationship with Salvador Allende, who appointed him as Chile’s ambassador to France in 1970. The following year, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, recognized for the scope and impact of his poetry. His later years were marked by illness, and he died in 1973, just days after the military coup that overthrew Allende. His legacy endures, not only in his vast body of work but also in his influence on literature, political thought, and the cultural identity of Latin America.

Reviews

[David · Rating 5 out of 5]

How can you not love a book that contains the magnificent "Oda a las papas fritas"?

http://www.enmitg.com/izquierdo/didac...

This is just one of the joys to be found in this book, which also contains neruda's odes: al ancla (to the anchor), al caballo (to the horse), a la cama (to the bed), a las cosas (to things), a las cosas rotas (to broken things), al elefante, al gato, a la gran muralla en la niebla (to the great wall in the fog), a la guitarra, a Lenin, a una manana del Brasil, a una manana en Stokholmo, al perro, a la mesa, al piano, a la sandia (to the watermelon), a los trenes del Sur, a un tren en china, al violin de California, a los nombres de Venezuela.

I LOVE these poems, for their concreteness, their specificity. Though I also have been enjoying Neruda's "20 love poems and a song of despair" since arriving here in Chile, their abstraction pales in comparison to the wonderfully concrete images evoked in the poems of this collection. Last Sunday I had the privilege of visiting Neruda's home in Valparaiso, (known as "La Sebastiana", see my current avatar), which is now preserved by the Neruda foundation as a museum. it's this indescribably wonderful four-story house overlooking the Pacific. The best part is that it's stuffed to the rafters with stuff - Neruda was obviously a complete pack-rat - the house is just filled with all manner of THINGS that he accumulated throughout his life. It provides a fascinating glimpse into his personality, and gives the "Oda a las cosas" a particular resonance.

Before this trip, I had always mentally classified Neruda's work in a kind of "future homework" category. That is to say, I had always felt guilty about not having read it, but wasn't particularly looking forward to doing so. Nothing had prepared me for the joyful immediacy of these poems.

I ADORE this book! Almost singlehandedly it has saved a trip whose other aspects have not always been pleasant. And I don't know whether it's the stage of life that I find myself at, or what the explanation for it is, but I find myself responding far more to Neruda's celebration of the small, concrete, pleasures of life (things! goddamit) than to the more abstract musings on love and loss in the collection from his youth (Veinte poemas de amor y una cancion desesperada). Though that, too, is well worth reading.

I don't know if the poems in this volume are available in translation, but I hope that they are. Because they really will bring a smile to your face, if you can track them down.

Who knew? Nobel Laureates can be fun to read as well!

[Adriana Scarpin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ode às Coisas Quebradas

Vão se quebrando as coisas
na casa
como se empurradas poe um invisível
quebrador voluntário;
não são as mãos minhas,
nem as tuas,
não foram as criadas
de unha dura
e passos de planeta;
não foi nada nem ninguém,
não foi o vento,
não o alaranjado do meio-dia
nem a noite terrestre,
não foi o nariz nem o cotovelo,
a anca crescente,
o tornozelo
nem o ar:
quebrou-se o pranto, caiu o abajur,
tombaram todos os vasos
um por um, aquele
em pleno outubro
cheio de miosótis,
fatigado por todas violetas,
e outro vazio
rodou, rodou, rodou
pelo inverno
até ser farinha
de vaso,
lembrança quebrada, pó luminoso.
E aquele relógio
cujo som
era
a voz de nossas vidas,
o secreto
fio
das semanas,
que uma a uma
atava tantas horas
ao mel, ao silêncio,
a tantos nascimentos e trabalhos,
aquele relógio também
caiu e vibraram
entre os vidros quebrados
suas delicadas vísceras azuis,
seu grande coração
desenrolado.

A vida vai moendo
vidros, gastando roupas,
cansando-se,
triturando formas,
e o que dura com o tempo é como
ilha ou nave no mar,
perecível,
rodeado por frágeis perigos,
por implacáveis águas e ameaças.

Ponhamos tudo de uma vez, relógios,
pratos, copo talhados pelo frio,
em um saco e levemos
ao mar nossos tesouros:
que desmoronem nossas possessões
em m só alarmante despencar,
que soe como um rio
o que se quebra
e que o mar reconstrua
com seu longo trabalho de marés
tantas coisas inúteis
que ninguém quebra
mas que se quebraram.

[lectoraestilosa: Alba · Rating 3 out of 5]

LITORAL: una revista que aúna poesía y pensamiento; en este caso, sobre la figura de Neruda. ¡Cuántas cosas he aprendido! ¡Cuánto he disfrutado recitándolo! Aunque su estilo ni sus versos me hayan cautivado tanto como esperaba.

Unos pocos que sí
me los quedo para mí 💘

[João Affonso · Rating 5 out of 5]

Neruda chega como um boxeador clássico, bailando à nossa frente, jabs inofensivos, clinches e jogo de cintura. De repente vem o direto no queixo e aí já é tarde demais para erguer a guarda, a paixão pelo homem das metáforas já se instalou desesperadamente.

[Monique Gerke · Rating 3 out of 5]

ODE À TERRA (II)

Terra,
quem
te mediu e te pôs,
muros
arames
fechos?
Nascente dividida?
Quando os meteoros te cruzaram
e teu rosto crescia
desmoronando mares e penhascos,
quem repartiu teus dons,
entre uns quantos seres?

Eu te acuso,
tiveste
abalos de morte,
tremores de catástrofe,
fizeste pó
de cidades, de aldeias,
das pobres casas cegas
de Chillán, destruíste
os arrabaldes de Valparaíso,
foste cólera
de iracunda potra
contra os aprazíveis habitantes
de minha pátria
e em troca
suportaste
a divisão injusta
de teus prédios,
não crepitou o arremesso
do vulcão aceso
contra o usurpador de território,
e em ti caiu não só o morto justo,
o que cumpriu seus dias,
mas também o fuzilado
perseguido
de quem roubaram campos e cavalos,
e que por fim dessangrou-se caindo
sobre tua pele impassível.

Teu duro inverno ao pobre deste,
a mina negra ao buscador ferido,
a toca foi para o abandonado,
o queimante calor ao filho do deserto,
e assim tua sombra injusta não deu consolo a todos,
e teu fogo não foi bem repartido.

Terra, escuta e medita
nestas palavras,
dou-as ao vento para que voem,
cairão em teu ventre a germinar,
não mais batalhas, basta,
não queremos pagar terra com sangue;
queremos te amar,
mãe fecunda,
mãe do pão e do homem,
mas
mãe de todo o pão e de todos os homens.

[Martu · Rating 2 out of 5]

oda a las cosas comunes e infravaloradas de la vida.
Pablo Neruda es un romantico de vivir lo cual amo, pero este poemario no sacio mi expectativas.

[Raúl Sánchez · Rating 3 out of 5]

En realidad otro libro de odas. Especialmente interesante me parece la Oda a Lenin, propaganducha de primera clase. Ya quisieramos que toda la propaganda politica fuera así (claro, no deja de ser propaganda)

[Deb · Rating 4 out of 5]

Poesia sobre coisas, literalmente coisas e detalhes. Intrigante. Adorei!