Neruda

Being in Chile we visited Isla Negra, his house along the coast near Valparaiso. Unfortunately you can't walk around on your own; just with a museum guide. Groups queue up, so each group is pulled through the small buildings in great speed. But the sense came through; this remarkable poet was a remarkable collector. Shells, crockery, glassware, sea maps, endless. He was takes from this place because he was seriously ill, just as the Pinochet coup took place. The military force went to his house, afraid of the power he had with his poetic interpretations of what was going on. Shortly after this he passed away. His house was restored, eventually. His inspiration never faded, and that's what you feel when you're in Chile. Here's a fragment of one of his poems:
Unidad 
Hay algo denso, 
sentado en el fondo, 
repitiendo su número, su señal idéntica. 
Como se nota que las piedras han tocado el tiempo, e
n su fina materia hay olor al edad, 
y el agua que trae el mar, de sal y sueño. 


Oneness 
There's something dense, united, 
sitting in the background, 
repeating its number, its identical signal. 
How clear it is that stones have handled time, 
in their fine substance there's the smell of age, 
and water the sea brings, salty and sleepy

This poem was taken from the book Neruda Esencial, from Pehuén Publishers in Chile. The motto of the book:
'On our earth, before writing was invented,before the printing press was invented, poetry flourished. That is why we know that poetry is like bread; it should be shared by all, by scholars and by peasants, by all our vast, incredible, extraordinary family of humanity' Pablo Neruda.