Respuestas a Pablo Neruda

A creative writing exercise for class that I did weeks and weeks ago. Neruda wrote The Book of Questions in 1973. My attempts at answering a few of them...

I. Where did the moon leave its nocturnal sack of flour?

The full moon got tired
in her long traverse across the sky
The sack of flour she carried broke
and the flour scattered across the sky
and the full moon realized
that the flour
wasn't flour
but stars
That shine in the darkness of the universe
and of my soul.

II. Tell me, is the rose naked or does she only have that dress?

The rose could change her dress
if she wanted
But her Mother gave it to her
as a gift
upon her birth
And she likes it too much
to take it off.

III. How many churches does heaven have?

Heaven has only one church,
where all are welcome and all are holy,
and the wounds of earthly life are lost
among the clouds of the divine imagination.

IV. Why do trees hide the splendor of their roots?

Some say it's because they're shy
but the truth is
That they want to share the elation they feel
just to be alive
with the worms and the ants
and all that exists in the most hidden
spaces
They like to stand with their feet sunk
into the wet soil
and wiggle their toes
Among the secrets of invisible life.

V. What did the rubies say to the pomegranate juice?

How delicious our blood
that runs over expectant tongues
from spherical veins
of humble orbs
Jewels dug up from the mine of the orchard.

VI. How old is November?

November is so ancient doesn't remember
his age very well, he only knows the he has seen
the passing of the years, dawn and death
in tones of gray and pale light, and that
he will be waiting for us forever.

VII. How did the abandoned bicycle set itself free?

It was an impulse that started
so slowly
that at first it hardly seemed
that is could happen.
But the idea grew until
there, at the top of the hill,
The call of liberty
and the demand of gravity
Couldn't be ignored any longer.

VIII. Is there anything sadder in the world that a train, unmoving, in the rain?

There is nothing sadder
than a train, unmoving, in the rain.
Except of course for the people seated in the train
who had dreamed of extravagant journeys
to far and exotic lands
and who now find themselves detained, trapped,
The journey confined to a dream.

IX. How many bees does the day have?

The day has enough bees
to make all the honey
that I need
for my three cups of tea.

X. Why does night's hat have so many holes?

They're portals to other spheres
that speak to us of belated light
and centuries of curiosity
Always tempting us with unreachable promises
Why can't night just take off its hat?

XI. How many questions does a cat have?

Cats already know all the answers
and they're just waiting for us
to ask.
But in the meantime, they'd like to know one thing--
When are we going to feed them?

XII. Is peace the peace of a dove? Does the leopard make war?

If peace were the peace of a dove
we would all have wings to fly
and there would be enough crumbs,
scattered by children,
so that everyone could eat.
As far as the leopard goes,
no doubt he is a consummate warrior.
But having the camouflage
and the stealth
necessary for war
is never a good excuse for killing.

XIII. Why couldn't Christopher Columbus discover Spain?

He preferred to dream
of a continent, Her scents of elusive treasures
and Her murmurs of rich dark blood.
He preferred to extinguish
the fire with the light of that Crown
dominate the detour
that distracted him from far eastern mysteries.
And, it turns out,
he wasn't very good with geography.

XIV. How long will everyone else speak if we have already spoken?

Everyone else will speak
until we realize
that the voices that matter
aren't just our own.

XV. What will they say about my poetry, those who did not touch my blood?

They will praise you
They will critique you
They will analyze you.
They will search for you in boats that never left the shore and
They will imagine you, the impassioned lover of supreme conscience
And even then they will not know your real name.
For us, your poetry
will have to be your blood.