Mi último recuerdo (Spanish Edition)

But the girl seemed unmoved. There were no yearnings from her eyes. The girl spoke slowly and calmly.

Quiz: False Cognates

The burning desires were from the poet. The poet was sitting opposite her, studying her eyes. His fantasies began to work on his brain. Yet his kisses though happy were only "embers" or burnt leaves or twigs, just like autumn still retains a little of the heat of summer but is destined for the deathly cold of winter. He felt as if he was looking at the object of his passion as a sailor looking at the sky from a ship and as a shepherd looking at the plains from the hills.

There he describes his double difficulties: In either case, the "action" stops at mere "observation". His joy was merely visual. It did not culminate in action. His "action" was "action" in the realm of his "imagination". In the last quartrain, the poet takes up again the "memory" in the first quartrain.

In the first line, he starts with "Te recuerdo" meaning "I remember you" but in the second line of the last quartrain, he says "Tu recuerdo". In Spanish, "recuerdo" is the first person singular form of the verb "recordar". This is the sense used in the first line of the first quartrain.

But in the last quartrain, he uses "recuerdo" as a noun, meaning memory. But there is ambiguity in the use of the "Tu". But here again, Spanish grammar permits the object of the verb to be placed either before or after the relevant verb.

In the sentence, Neruda placed the verb "ardian" between "ojos" and "crepusculos" and thereby blurs the boundary between the subject and the object and thus, I think deliberately, creates a "fusion" between the two: But there was also another reversal. In the first stanza.

That was probably the "dream" of the poet! Time has worked the magic. The poet has made his conquest! Only through the medium of his words. And through his words, he has immortalized his "memory" of her. Through the poet, the girl too is immortalized! You were the grey beret and the tranquil heart.

In your eyes the flames of twilight quarreled. And the leaves fell into the water of your soul.

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Fastened to my arms as a clinging vine, the leaves collected your slow and calm voice. Bonfire of trance in which my thirst burned. Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.

I feel your eyes travel and autumn is far away: Sky from a ship. Field from the hills. Your memory is of light, of smoke, of a tranquil pond! Dry autumn leaves were spinning in your soul.

That is void that reading a poem in a foreign language fills — recognizing a word here or a phrase there and trying to solve the poem like a puzzle in your head [1]. Listening to the poet read his work, even better. Black Mamba , Pablo Neruda , Spanish. Another translation at http: You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Twitter account.

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