Yet another fine translation by William O'Daly of the late work of Pablo Neruda. One can certainly hear echoes of Walt Whitman in these poems, a poet Neruda read and admired. There are many fine poems in the collection, but an overall unity is sometimes disturbed by a few poems that seem here just to vent spleen against those who have wronged the poet. Don't let that stop you from reading and spending some time here.

Neruda's language within even many shorter poems goes from the prosaic commonplace to sudden surreal juxtapositions. The end result is to make words new. As Neruda desired of all art,

Strike a blow of fire with your guitar,
raise it, as it burbs:
it is your flag.
( )