The Republic of Poetry.The Republic of Poetry Martin Espada W. W. Norton Company Inc. 500 Fifth Avenue, New York New York, state, United States New York, Middle Atlantic state of the United States. It is bordered by Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and the Atlantic Ocean (E), New Jersey and Pennsylvania (S), Lakes Erie and Ontario and the Canadian province of , NY 10110 0393062562 $23.95 www.wwnorton.com The eighth poetry collection by editor, translator, creative writing teacher, and award-winning poet Martin Espada, The Republic of Poetry speaks to the collective power of history, imagination, miracles, justice, and redemption. The first part of the anthology consists of poems speaking to the heart of Chile, once under the harsh heel of the 1973 military coup, now growing as a democracy; the second part is a series of elegies
Elegies (エレジーズ written to poets; and the third and final part consists of powerful anti-war poetry. Written with passion, and scorn toward tyrants, The Republic of Poetry is an unforgettable, immersive experience and highly rewarding reading. "Black Islands (for Dario)": At Isla Negra Isla Negra (literally "black island") is neither black nor an island, but a fishing village some 130 kilometres south-west of Valparaiso, Chile, named after the dark outcrop of rocks just offshore. , / between Neruda's tomb / and the anchor in the garden, / a man with stonecutter's hands / lifted up his boy of five / so the boy's eyes could search mine. / The boy's eyes were black olives Noun 1. black olive - olives picked ripe and cured in brine then dried or pickled or preserved canned or in oil ripe olive olive - one-seeded fruit of the European olive tree usually pickled and used as a relish . / "Son," the father said, "this is a poet, / like Pablo Neruda Noun 1. Pablo Neruda - Chilean poet (1904-1973) Neftali Ricardo Reyes, Neruda, Reyes ." / The boy's eyes were black glass. / "My son is called Dario, for the poet of Nicaragua," / the father said. / The boy's eyes were black stones. / The boy said nothing, / searching my face for poetry, / searching my eyes for his own eyes. / The boy's eyes were black islands. |
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