Inspired by Milton's Photography
Poetry by Pablo Neruda
The rafters in Pablo Neruda's studio.
Los Nombres
No los escribí en la techumbre por grandiosos, sino
por companeros.
Rojas Giménez, el trashumante, el nocturno,
traspasado por los adioses, muerto de alegría, palamero, loco de
la sombra.
Joaquín Giminez, cuyos tercetos rodaban como
Piedras del rio.
Federico, que me hacía reir como nadie y que nos
enluto a todos por un siglo.
Paul Eluard, cuyos ojos color de nomeolvides me
Parece que siguen celestes y que guardan su fuerza azul bajo
La tierra.
Miguel Hernándes, silbándome a manera de ruisenor
Desde los arboles de la calle de la Princesa antes de que los
Presidios atraparan a mi ruisenor.
Nazim, aeda rumoroso, caballero valiente, companero.
Por que se fueron tan pronto? Cada uno de ellos fue una victoria.
Juntos fueron para mi toda la luz. Ahora, una pequena
Antolpgia de mis dolores.
The Names
I didn't write them on the roofbeams because they
were famous, but because they were companions
Rojas Giménez, the nomad, nocturnal, pierced with
the grief of farewells, dead with joy pigeon breeder, madman
of the shadows
Joaquín Cifruntes, whose verses rolled like stones in
the river.
Fredrico, who made me laugh like no on else could
and who put us all in mourning for a century.
Paul Eluard, whose forget-me-not color eyes are as sky
blue as always and retain their blue strength under the earth.
Miguel Hernándes, whistling to me like a nightingale
from the trees on Princesa Street until they caged my
nightingale.
Nazim, noisy bard, brave gentleman, friend.
Why did they leave so soon? Their names will not slip
down from the rafters. Each one of them was a victory.
Together they were the sum of my light. Now, a small
anthology of my sorrow.