As an Indian I have not been exposed to south american culture as much I have been to North American, European even African. I am reading novel and poems of various south american writers and I am loving it.
Gabriela Mistral is another great Chilean author whose poems you might enjoy. She was actually the first South American to ever win a Nobel Prize in Literature (1945)! I absolutely love her writings for children, but she had a fierce political and social side that not too many people discuss about, unfortunately. Her life was really interesting too, so I don't think you'll regret getting to know more about her! All the best from Chile 🇨🇱
Well in Bengal we are lucky to have some great translations of Neruda in Bangla as well as of the entire oeuvre of Marquez...And in Bengali literary circles Latin America is discussed maybe too much sometimes...We have less knowledge of African Literature (except for Chinua Acebe..Everybody knows him) and North American literature.And Oceania...We know zilch about them.
I am North American, US to be exact, and I 100% agree. There is a very special psychologically and linguistically savoriness to their poetry and fiction and I am saving up to go there. I am fortunate enough to be English-Spanish bilingual, so I can also appreciate the rhythm and musicality and overall grandeur of their great writers' works, however if you do read it in English, especially Neruda, I recommend translations by the poet scholar WS Merwin. Enjoy.
I never heard of this author. I'm reading a lot of Paulo Neruda poems recently, and in love with the way he mixed imagination of his awareness and i also spotted social aspect as well. @@p.aulasy
If you need a cry, read my favorite poem of his: Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, 'The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.' The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I held her in my arms I kissed her again and again under the endless sky. She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her. To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture. What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is shattered and she is not with me. This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. My sight searches for her as though to go to her. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me. The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same. I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing. Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before. Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long. Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her. Edit: thanks so much for the likes! And Ted Ed noticed me too! You guys are awesome!!
@@MarkWTK I'm glad you liked it! This piece would forever haunt me of how how great of a poet Neruda is. You're just a different person after reading it.
As a chilean, that is used to read and listen to Neruda's poems in spanish, reading "Poema xx" in another languaje is really odd and kinda funny jajajs. But knowing that is appreciated by many people in other countries warms my heart 💖
This poem's impact is spot on. Though the lines don't rhyme, the words and the feelings of the author were very evident. It made me feel something. And that's what makes it so pleasing to the ears and why it can make my heart ache.
His work is as such of a beautiful ache. It's oxymoronic, yet I want that level of sadness in my life. "I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees"
*"Today, Neruda's lines are recited at protests and marches worldwide. Much like his life, Neruda's poems bridged romance and revolution by emphasizing the everyday moments worth fighting for."* Beautiful. I will never forget that.
The books that help you most are those which make you think that most. The hardest way of learning is that of easy reading; but a great book that comes from a great thinker is a ship of thought, deep freighted with truth and beauty. - Pablo Neruda
It is funny how you can't straightforwardly say that he was a communist, and ran for president of Chile as a member of the communist party, instead "he was comitted to revolutionary ideals". If you don't hesitate to label someone as fascist, why censor the fact that somebody was a communist?
I'm so glad that a platform like Ted-Ed is showcasing prominent Latin authors and poets such as Neruda, Borges and Marquez. Not only does it shine a light on often underappreciated figureheads of literature (at least in the U.S), but it cultivates more positivity and respect for Latin culture that tends to be dismissed or neglected in our general education. I think that another fantastic consideration for a video would be Rubén Darío of Nicaragua. He's one of the most notable vanguards of the literary movement modernismo, and his skill of imbuing aesthetic in poetry is unparalleled by many other modern contenders. It would be great to bring awareness not only to him, but to Nicaragua. Keep up the good work!
*Expressing emotions of love, sadness, courage, life in general.* What can be more fulfilling than to do things that you hold dearly to yourself and are the means of your inner expression?
I'm learning Spanish with my main goals being 1) communication and 2) being able to read such masterworks as these in their original language, the way they're meant to be read. Thank you for adding Naruda to that list! ❤ I think I'll save Cien años de soledad for last, and work on being able to hold a conversation for now haha
Studying the basics through a course and practicing speaking would a good place to start. If you're just "winging it" I would recommend learning how to use spanish articles (femenine, masculine, indefinite, etc) and how to combine verbs (past, present, future, etc). Articles: Understanding why 'el juego' (the game) is correct and 'la juego' is incorrect. Verbs: How to combine basic tenses like 'yo hablé' (I talked), 'yo hablo' (I talk), 'yo hablaré' (I will talk). These concepts have helped people I know understand "the rules" quickly, and to apply them to other words or combinations of words. ¡Buena suerte!
@@ulvessens5902 Thank you for the encouragement! I actually already learned French so a great deal of the grammar was already sorted in my brain. I was literally laughing when I reached the future and conditional: they're almost the same as in French! Really the Préterito was what gave me trouble. Something that helped me in both languages was learning that words that end in -ème or -ema coming from Greek are always masculine, though they look as though they should be feminine! El systema, el planeta, el problema... My next step is just learning more vocabulary that's not immediately recognizable as Latin, and all the Arabic and native American words that snuck in too!
@@e.matthews Sounds like you're well on your way to learning spanish, especially if you already know french! I think there are many similarities between languages like french, spanish and portuguese, so knowing one should help quite a lot (latin roots). Yes, some words are tricky because they seem like they should be feminine instead of masculine, but they are the exception, and it's just a matter of expanding vocab just like you said. I hope you are able to enjoy reading spanish literature, as translations, although coming close to the original "feel", cannot communicate all the slight differences in word meaning, the sound and cadence of words, and the overall beauty of a piece. Saludos.
If the translations of Neruda's poems give such an impact. What if we read them in the original language The same enthusiasm kindle in me. He was in my country Sri Lanka. These days I am reading a translation of his Memoirs. He is a Massive Humanitarian & a genuinely an honest man .
THANK you so much for reading the poems in the language they were written in and giving us the translation on screen. It conveys the way it was meant to be taken in and I adore that we get to hear/see it both ways! Love the animation, great work as always!!!
We can not deny the amazing mind of this man. His work and thoughts are brilliant and helped a lot of people. But He was extremely misogenous and has several lovers at the same time (without consent), he abandoned his sick daughter and mocked her deformities. It's ok to love his poems because they are incredible, and it's ok to be amazed by his achievements but we can't forget that Pablo has a very dark side, as the human that he is.
One reason why poetry is savoured so much in our world is that it puts into words feelings which are too subtle and deep for the average person to put into words.
The video kept saiyng that Neruda was revolutionary, but the word communism was not mentioned, Neruda was communist revolutionary, organized in the Communist Party of Chile and he was one of the greatest comrades of all Latin America
I love these ted-ed narrators. Their voices are so engaging. I don't even like poetry yet i watched the whole video because of the animation and narration.
Chile una tierra de grandes poetas y pianistas (es un dicho usado aquí en Chile). Gracias por el video, muy claro. Saludos de un profesor de literatura chileno!!
Everyone in Chile knows at least some phrases of his poetry. Even, the phrase "me gustas cuando callas" is probably one of the most popular sayings in the country.
Neruda is beloved in Chile by the elderly and cancelled by the young people. He treated women badly and wasn't a responsible parent. Here his figure nowadays is controversial
One of the greatest. I never will forget my father's last words: Por qué no me lleva preso, Pa que se coma un choripán He went to buy cigarettes and never came back... Love you dad
I guess Malva Marina Trinidad wasn't worth fighting for...or even acknowledge as a human being. I won't advise anyone to avoid his work, but to remember her, whenever you read him. If not for perspective. Then just for the memory of a tragic voiceless soul. Sleep well, Little Malva.
I want to buy a book by Pablo Neruda as a birthday gift for a German girl I know. Any recommendations here what should I get? She speaks fluent Spanish as she does linguistics. Should I get the poems in Spanish / Spanish and German / or Spanish with German commentary. And which publisher? Any recommendations would be helpful ^^
Neruda is one of the most overrated poets ever. An affluent, womanizing liberal elite who pretended to be a defender of the people but never strayed too far from the comfort of his fictitious wealth. In Chile alone, Gabriela Mistral and Violeta Parra are much better poets. Their poetry actually rhymes and is a pleasure to recite.
What do you mean by °his family's wealth'? , Neruda's mother died when he was 2 months old and he was raised by his step mother and his father was just a railroad worker in Temuco, a poor and cold city in the south of the country then.
AND Neruda's a rapist too. He even wrote a "poem" about his rape and the rape victim: www.elespectador.com/noticias/cultura/en-plena-ola-feminista-la-conducta-de-neruda-con-las-mujeres-en-cuestion-articulo-826588
@@anattasunnata3498 It's true that poetry doesn't have to rhyme. But while Neruda wrote a lot of bad "poetry", in fact, several of Neruda's good poems do rhyme. Poetry isn't just a form of expression. What I just wrote to you is an expression, but it isn't poetry. There's no art to what I wrote.
What a great irony... Today I listened Pablo Neruda's poem, tonight I can write the saddest lines, in the collage where last year TedX program held. And I'm watching this after 1 week.
If you need a cry, read my favorite poem of his: Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, 'The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.' The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I held her in my arms I kissed her again and again under the endless sky. She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her. To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture. What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is shattered and she is not with me. This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. My sight searches for her as though to go to her. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me. The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same. I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing. Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before. Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long. Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her. by not me
I cannot remember ever seeing an image of Pablo Neruda, yet I drew him years ago coming down from an acid trip while I was thinking of my father. At that time, I wanted to express a feeling of isolation, with people standing in the rain looking inside, judging me. Sadly, I'm a bad drawer of big scenes, so I simply sketched a man smoking. The similarity is striking to the man in the video. As for the original expression, I recently rediscovered a poem I wrote of a house grown cold, and the ability of a single whisper to turn it back into the place we call home. At the time, I thought it was about breaking up with someone, but seeing his image, and noticing the similarities of the themes of his poetry and mine (intimacy, intricacies of love, revolution), it made me think maybe the poem was about my father all along? Did I capture this feeling in a poem without knowing it? It wouldn't be the first time that my poetry has provided me with new insights. Poetry is always found unexpected, like an open palm welcoming whatever the wind lays on it and accepting whatever it blows away. It observes the beauty of the world, revels in its tragedy and we find comfort in words, words, words.
My favorite is "es tan corto el amor, y tan largo el olvido" it's so simple yet so profound and true. Also, thanks Ted Ed for having a Hispanic narrator.
pablo nerudas works always get me emotional, and this video was no exception. the way her loved latinoamerica and its people is so deeply touching to me as a latina... thank you ted for the video
Sorry did not translate it into english.. Malva Marina Reyes, la hija de Pablo Neruda. Nació con hidrocefalia y fue abandonada por ello. El hombre que escribió los más bellos y dulces versos, llamaba a su hija, "Punto y coma" (por la proporción entre su cabeza y su cuerpo), "Vampiresa de tres kilos" y "Ser ridículo". Malva murió en la indigencia con tan solo 8 años. Su padre no fue a su entierro. Malva Marina Trinidad Reyes la hija abandonada por su padre Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto (Pablo Neruda) 1- El poeta más amado de la izquierda: Pablo Neruda, tuvo una hija: Malva Marina Trinidad Reyes, muerta en Holanda a los ocho años de edad, abandonada por su padre que la detestaba por su hidrocefalia, uno de los tantos ejemplos de la doble moral. 2- El 18 de agosto de 1934 Malva nace en Madrid, donde el Neruda (Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto) era Cónsul General. Pero para el poeta chileno, el nacimiento de una hija enferma y deforme (según su propia descripción) estaba fuera de todos sus cálculos. 3- En junio de 1934 publica “Residencia en la tierra” y conoce a la argentina Delia del Carril, afiliada al Partido Comunista Francés, la famosa Hormiguita. Delia le lleva 20 años y el romance será instantáneo. En agosto de 1934 Maryka, sufrida esposa de Neruda, da a luz a Malva. 4- Al mes de su nacimiento Neruda escribe a su amiga argentina Sara Tornú: “Mi hija, o lo que yo denomino así, es un ser perfectamente ridículo, una especie de punto y coma, una vampiresa de tres kilos”. El 8 de noviembre se separa de Maryka y ese día abandona a Malva. 5- Huye con La Hormiguita a París y comienza el secreto del abandono de Malva, durante años encubierto con la complicidad de la cofradía literaria latinoamericana y el Partido Comunista chileno, que también ocultaron abusos y malos tratos a decenas de mujeres. Todo sea por Pablo Neruda. 6- Maryka se acerca a una iglesia de La Haya, donde encuentra una guardería para Malva. Allí será cuidada por el matrimonio de Hendrik Julsing y Gerdina Sierks. Neruda nunca responderá a las súplicas de su abandonada esposa para que envíe 100 dólares al mes. 7- Maryka vive en pensiones y trabaja en lo que encuentra para mantener a Malva, suplica a Neruda que le mande dinero. Siete meses después, en julio del 37, la esposa y la hija abandonadas, con la ayuda del padrino y amigo Tricht, emprenden camino a Den Haag (La Haya en neerlandés, la capital de Holanda). Pronto María Antonia se hará a la idea de que ya no podrá creer más a su marido. Las penurias se suceden. Maruca vive en pensiones de mala muerte, el dinero se le acaba y su hija, con el cerebro cada vez más lleno de líquido, reclama muchas más atenciones. A través de organizaciones religiosas, como Christian Science, Maruca consigue dar con una familia de holandeses que residían en Gouda. Hendrik Julsing y Gerdina Sierks aceptan cuidar de la pequeña mientras su madre busca trabajo en La Haya, a menos de una hora por carretera. La tratan como a una más de la familia hasta su muerte, con ocho años, el 2 de marzo de 1943. Incluso contratan una niñera, Nelly Leijis, para que se dedique en exclusiva a la niña. Maruca, mientras tanto, no rehúye ningún tipo de trabajo. Se ofrece a limpiar suelos, cuidar de enfermos, lo que sea con tal de sacar adelante a su desvalida hija. Quién se lo iba a decir a la niña rica que fue, a la descendiente de Jeremias van Riemsdijk, el patriarca de una estirpe de prósperos comerciantes holandeses, que hizo carrera en la Compañía Holandesa de las Indias Orientales. Jeremias llevaba una vida tan opulenta que se paseaba por sus campos de arroz en Java en una carroza de cristal tirada por caballos árabes que había ordenado llevar desde Europa. Para María Antonia o La javanesa, como a menudo se referían a ella los allegados a Neruda, ya sólo eran recuerdos de un pasado de cine. Nadie se acuerda de ella. Maruca, para el poeta, es un punto y aparte. Ya no le quedan padres y su hija camina hacia un final dramático. Por mediación de no sabe quién por fin encuentra trabajo, puede que no bien pagado, en la embajada de España en La Haya. Está a las órdenes de José María Semprún, padre del escritor Jorge Semprún, luego expulsado en 1964 del Partido Comunista de España (PCE), al que Pablo Neruda tanto admiraba. Lo que a esta mujer aún le queda por sufrir ni ella misma lo imagina. Poco antes de que la II Guerra Mundial terminara, María Antonia fue detenida por los nazis -no por ser judía, sino por tener pasaporte chileno- e internada en el mismo campo de concentración en el que estaba Anna Frank. De Westerbork, ideado para acoger 107.000 prisioneros de los que se estima que fallecieron 60.000, salían en su mayoría de judíos y gitanos hacia los crematorios y cámaras de gas de Auschwitz y Treblinka, en Polonia. Maruca pasa allí un mes entre alambradas, soldados de la SS y perros entrenados para matar. Pero esta vez la suerte no le daría la espalda. Cuando el campo fue liberado (15 de abril de 1945) por las tropas canadienses sólo encontraron 876 prisioneros con vida. Y entre ellos, a la esposa abandonada de Neruda. Nueve días antes de que las puertas del infierno se abrieran definitivamente, moría allí Anna Frank, su vecina en el campo. De María Antonia Hagenaar no queda nada. Ni una lápida que indique el final de su azaroso camino. Tres años después de su liberación, viaja a Chile para errar el doloroso capítulo nerudiano, pues antes se negó a aceptar el divorcio que el vate quiso dar por hecho tras abandonarla. En noviembre de 1948 firma el divorcio y un acuerdo financiero. Aún tardó en regresar a Holanda. Dicen que se volvió adicta al opio. Un cáncer se la llevó, en 1965, estando de vuelta en La Haya, no lejos de la tumba en la que reposan los restos de su querida Malva Marina, a la que su madre no dejó de visitar hasta el final de sus días. Nunca olvidar que detrás de alguien, se puede esconder una historia oculta. En memoria de la pequeña malva marina reyes.
Me encantan los poemas de Pablo Neruda. ME alegra ver que estamos reviviendo las bonitas cosas de nuestro mundo. Las nuevas generaciones deben de conocer todas estas historias.
Please give it a go with a portuguese author (Fernando Pessoa, Luís Vaz De Camões, José Saramago),household names still anonymous to a great number of people, as you guys have done beautifully well with some authors i had the pleasure of being stimulated to read because of your videos. Let me and others find paths yet closed to our imagination and delight.
I love Neruda and his poems. Six years ago, I came across a line from his poem that says, "I will do with you, what spring does with the cherry blossom trees..."
