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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Superb, Like a seasoned lion, Neruda buys bread in the shop. He asks for it to be wrapped in paper And solemly puts it under his arm: "Let someone at least think that at some time I bought a book…" Waving his hand in farewell, like a Roman rather dreamily royal, in the air scented with mollusks, oysters, rice, he walks with the bread through Valparaiso. He says: " Eugenio, look! You see-- over there, among the puddles and garbage, standing up under the red lamps stands Bilbao-with the soul of a poet -- in bronze. Bilbao was a tramp and a rebel. Originally they set up the monument, fenced off by a chain, with due pomp, right in the center, although the poet had lived in the slums. Then there was some minor overthrow or other, and the poet was thrown out, beyond the gates. Sweating, they removed the pedestal to a filthy little red-light district. And the poet stood, as the sailor's adopted brother, against a background you might call native to him. Our Bilbao loved cracking jokes. He would say: 'On this best of possible planets there are prostitutes and politutes -- as I'm a poet, I prefer the former.'" And Neruda comments, with a hint of slyness: "A poet is beyond the rise and fall of values. It's not hard to remove us from the center, but the spot where they set us down becomes the center!" I remember that noon, Pablo, as I tune my transistor at night, ny the window, now, when a wicked war with the people of Chile brings back the smell of Spain. Playing about at a new overthrow, politutes in generals' uniforms wanted, whichever way they could, to hustle your poetry out of sight. But today I see Neruda-- he's always right in the center and, not faltering, he carries his poetry to the people as simply and calmly as a loaf of bread. Many poets follow false paths, but if the poet is with the people to the bitter end, like a conscience- then nothing can possibly overthrow poetry. 1973 Translated by Arthur Boyars amd Simon Franklin
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