In Chile are investigating the death of Pablo Neruda

[Тютчев]

in Chile are investigating the death of Pablo Neruda

Chilean authorities are going to investigate the cause of death of Nobel laureate in literature, Pablo Neruda, who died 12 days after the armed revolution led by Augusto Pinochet in 1973. On Thursday, June 2, reported Agence France-Presse.
The basic version of the death of one of the most prominent Latin American writers considered cancer, but now the Chilean authorities decided to check to see whether Neruda became a victim of murder.

Investigating the cause of death, Neruda's friend and initiated a personal assistant to the poet Manuel Araya, to write a request to the court. According to his statement, Neruda was a victim of the Pinochet regime.

Araya told, he was with Neruda until the last hours of his life. Assistant to the poet insists that 69-year-old Nobel laureate was sent to the hospital of Santa Maria in Santiago, not because of the deterioration of the poet, but "to its security."

According to Araya, Neruda was worried that the new regime wants to get rid of him, and Pinochet was afraid that the poet will flee the country. "Pinochet was a murderer. He finished with Neruda, so that he could not leave the country. He (Pinochet) did not want to see your opponent in the face of an intellectual" - quoted by AFP Arai.

In the Pablo Neruda Foundation (Fundacion Pablo Neruda) remain convinced that the poet died on September 23, 1973 from prostate cancer, complicated by stress after the overthrow of President Augusto Pinochet of Chile Salvador Allende, whom Neruda was on friendly terms.

According to the Fund, which owns the rights to the work of the poet, Neruda died of cancer at a late stage, and no evidence of other causes of death, Nobel Prize winner is not.

Neruda, the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971, is known for his poems about love, as well as the epic poem "The Universal Song" ("Canto General"), tells about the history and peoples of South America. Neruda was an active member of the Communist Party of Chile, and during the Pinochet dictatorship from 1973 to 1990 his works were banned.

Investigation into the death of the poet was initiated shortly after the exhumation of the remains of Allende, which was produced May 23, 2011. There is no consensus about the cause of death of ex-president is also unavailable. According to one version, he shot himself with a machine gun during the storm the presidential palace Pinochet supporters. On the other hand, he was killed. Definitively establish the cause of death should be a special commission medical experts.

http://www.lenta.ru/news/2011/06/02/neruda/

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Pablo Neruda
         
        You denied me all, a woman

        
         You denied me everything, and yet
         I accept this love.
         Least because both are looking
         we are in the sky and the land.
        
         I smell like plexus of veins and nerves,
         sheltered under the flickering moon skin
         You shudder in the arms of the wind
         and which embraces me, too.
        
         You denied me everything, and yet
         you - my sight and touch.
         How happy I am that I see this field
         that caressed you eyes.
        
         Do not separate me from you parting:
         while holding their ears and eyes screwed up
         I'm in a bird flock recognize bird
         which you saw in blue.
        
         And yet you're around me denied,
         and from you I do not expect of charity.
         And your silver creek laughter
         quench your thirst is not my desert.
        
         My wine rejected thee,
         but my soul, my dear, your darling.
         My love and turn into honey
         Besides, love, someone you love.
        
         But this night ... One star above us ...
         I know: I attached to it tightly!
         In all you denied me, and yet
         I have all of you, darling, obliged.

Translation: Sergey Goncharenko Filippovich

[Тютчев]

Pablo Neruda
         
        You have denied me all, a woman

        
         You denied me everything, and yet
         I love this and accept.
         Least because both are looking
         we are in the sky and the land.
        
         I can smell like plexus of veins and nerves,
         Moon nestled under the flickering of the skin,
         You shudder in the arms of the wind
         and I embrace that, too.
        
         You denied me everything, and yet
         you - my sight and touch.
         How happy I am that I could see this field
         that caressed you eyes.
        
         Do not separate me from you parting:
         her ears and shutting his eyes,
         I'm in a bird flock and recognize the bird,
         which you saw in the blue.
        
         And yet you all turned me down,
         and from you I do not expect blagostyni.
         And your silver creek laughter
         quench your thirst is not my desert.
        
         My wine rejected thee,
         but the soul of me, dear, your darling.
         My love and turn into honey
         to love, someone you love.
        
         But this night ... One star above us ...
         I know I am firmly attached to it!
         In all you denied me, and yet
         I all of you, my love, must.

Translation: Sergey Goncharenko Filippovich

[Тютчев]

Pablo Neruda

Twenty poems of love and a song of despair (1924)

IV

This week is filled with storm
growing from the core of the summer.

Wind rustles wandering hands
white clouds - as handkerchiefs goodbye.

Countless hearts wind
beats over our love silence.

And buzzing in the trees a wonderful orchestra -
prophetic bell, full of battles and songs.

Wind breaks and blows leaves from trees,
deviates from the target arrows quivering birds.

Wind overthrows its ground waves without foam
substance weightless tilting fire.

Crashes and sinking ship of kisses
at the entrance to the harbor - a windy summer day.

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V

To you I heard,
my words
sometimes flat out
like a seagull footprints in the sand.

Bracelet, bell drunk
for your gentle hands, like a grape.

My words are visible in the distance.
Rather, yours than mine.
My old pain, they twist around ivy.

They climb up the damp walls.
You're the one to blame for this bloody game.

They run away from my dark lair.
All you have to fill. All you have to fill.

My lonely world they inhabited before thee,
To my sorrow, they used more than you.

I want them to say something that I myself would say I
that you listened to them as if they - that's me.

Wind my sorrow drags them until now.
Hurricane dreams they are still burying.

In my voice mournful voices of others.
The blood of ancient prayers, weeping aged mouths.

Girlfriend, love me.
Do not leave. Stay.
Stay with me, my friend, on this sad wave.

But leave my words soaked in your love.
All you have to fill. All you have to fill.

I will gather them all in one bracelet is infinite,
to thine hand, white, soft, like grapes.

XVII

Thinking I weave shadows in the depths of loneliness.
You're far away again. Far as anyone else.
Thinking, birds are released, dispersing his obsession.
And I commend the ground lights.
Belfry of fogs - at inaccessible heights!
Choking with tears, a shadow of hope rubbed in the dust:
taciturn miller
night catch you face down in a deserted wilderness.

I am alien to your proximity: it is too similar to things.
I step on the long road, my life - before you.
My life - above all else. My tart life.
To the sea draw your cry. Around - just rocks.
Run as a free madman, right in the sweat of the sea.
Mournful cry of rage and loneliness of the sea.
Arrogance and shamelessness, I ascend to heaven.

The woman, whom have you been? You were the ray and the spokes
infinite fan. Was far as it is now.
Forest, enveloped in a fire! Crucifixes in fiery nimbus.
Feast of the flame. Crackling fire. Light trees.
Destruction and death. Throughout the fire. Fire.

And my soul is dancing among the fiery shavings.
Who is calling me? Who inhabits the echoes of silence?
 This is - an hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.
It's - my only an hour!
Shout, which sings a passing breeze.
Moaning with passion ishlestano my body.

Concussion roots
waves of an endless onslaught!
My soul endlessly circling, rejoices, grieves.

Meditate, have given ground lights in the depths of loneliness.
Who are you? Who are you?

XX

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example: "Vyzvezdilo dark sky
And blue stars shiver in the sky gave. "

The wind whirls in the night sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

In the same night as this, I hugged her.
How many times have I kissed her under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
And how could not love these huge eyes?

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Think that she is not with me. Feel - I lost it.

Now I can hear how immense night.
And the lines fell into the soul like dew on the meadows.

Well so what, once my love to save it failed?
Vyzvezdilo dark sky, but it's not with me.

That's it. In the distance someone is singing. Away.
My soul can not live with this loss.

My eyes looking for her to be by her side.
My heart searches for her, but she is not with me.

The same night, and in the mist whiten the same trees.
Once we have changed, and we will not be the same.

I no longer love her, true, but how I loved her before.
Wind was searching for my voice to touch her hearing.

With others. It will be another. And I kissed her before.
Her voice, clear, her body, her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, no doubt, and still love to this day.
So love is fleeting, so immensely oblivion.

Indeed, in the same night as this, I hugged her.
My soul can not live with this loss.

Even if this is the last pain she had hurt me,
And if this is the last line which I am writing it.


Translated by Andrei Schetnikova