 Thank you. I share my gratitude with the others here for being here tonight. It's a wonderful event and long-lived banned books forever Pablo Neruda was an odd combination of things in that he was both rejected and congratulated by the Chilean government depending upon who was in office Neruda was a communist But this did not keep him from being named to important diplomatic posts at various times during his life by the government during the presidency of Gabriel Gonzales Videl, although from 1946 to 1952 Neruda's work was banned in Chile Chile because of his communist sympathies and he went into self-exile for several years and some of the events in his life from this period are Dramatized in the memorable film the postman el postino, which I hope everyone has seen Although not specifically banned itself his love son at number 27 from the 100 Sonnets of Love, which is his most popular book in South America Is the poem that in the movie the postman's girlfriend's mother finds hidden in the bodice of the girl's dress It was given as a gift to the girl the postman lying that he had been its author the discovery of it in the girl's bosom Causes her mother to forbid the romance between her daughter and the hapless postman Neruda himself intervenes to set things right I love all of these sonnets To the degree that I've translated them all from Spanish into English They were written to Neruda's wife Matilde and each one of them for me is a flame of desire and affection I'm going to indulge my I'm going to read two and I'm going to indulge myself a little bit I'm actually going to read the English translation first in the Spanish second and that's only because I assume that many people in the audience don't speak Spanish and I want to give you an idea of what the poem is about so that you can then sit back and relax and just enjoy the Spanish Neruda's written Spanish is wonderful just to hear so I'll read the first one from your postino number 27 Nude you're as simple as one of your hands smooth earthy tiny round Transparent You have lines of the moon streets of apple You're as slim in the nude as the undressed wheat nude your blue as the Cuban night is blue There are vines and stars in your hair your yellow and enormous Nude like summer in a church of gold nude You're as small as one of your nails curved subtle and rose-colored till the dawn of day When you place yourself in the underworld As in a long tunnel of clothes and jobs Your clarity fades Drops its leaves Dresses itself to turn once more to being just a naked hand number 27 Desnuda is as simple as one of your hands Lisa Terrestrial Minima round transparent Tienes lineas de luna caminos de manzana desnuda Eris del gava como el trigo desnudo desnuda eres azul como la noche en cuba Tienes en verdaderas y estrellas en el pelo desnuda eres enorme y amarilla como el verano en una iglesia de oro Desnuda eres pequeña como una de tus uñas curva Sutil Rosara hasta que nace el día Y te metes In el subterráneo del mundo Como en un largo túnel de trajes y trabajos Tu claridad se apaga Se viste Se desoja Y otra vez vuelve a ser una mano desnuda the second one I'm going to read is number 11 and I'm going to read it because it's one of my favorite poems of all Of any of that I've ever read There's a reference here to Kitratue and Kitratue is a Southern Highland region near the town of Temuco Chile where Neruda spent his boyhood This is number 11. I hunger for your mouth your voice and hair And up the streets I go shut up and starving Bread does nothing for me. I Go queasy with the dawn And seek out all day the watery sound of your steps I'm hungry for your smile slipping away and Your furious colored grainy hands hunger for the pale stone of your nails I wish to eat your skin as I would an almond intact I Want to dine on the charred light and your beauty your arrogant face and its sovereign nose and eat the fleeting shadow of your lashes and Still hungry. I come and go Sniffing out the dusk Looking for you Looking for your hot heart like a puma in Kitratue's solitude And this is number 11. Tengo hambre de tu boca de tu voz de tu pelo Y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callalo No me sostiene el pan El alba me disquicia Busco el sonido líquido de tus pies en el día Estoy hambriento de tu risa resbalada de tus manos color de furioso granero Tengo hambre de la palida pied de tus uñas. Quiero comer tu piel como una intacta almondra Quiero comer El rayo quemado en tu hermosura la nariz soberana del arrogante rostro Quiero comer la sombra fugaz de tus pestañas y hambriento Vengo y voy o fatiando el crepusculo buscando te Buscando tu corazón caliente como un puma en la soledad de Kitratue