When we read Paul Neruda's fragment, in his(her,your) poetry(poem). A singing for Bolívar, in enlarges the name of our Liberator, where there are fused all the vertices that lead to an alone place, our dear country Venezuela, they fought all the battles, innocent all those died for defending his(her,your) ideal one, some of his(her,your) thoughts the native soil evokes " First that nothing. Our life is not another thing that the inheritance(heredity) of our country ". Bolívar, in Neruda's poem it(he,she) highlights your inheritance(heredity) is our bread of every day, father. And I wonder which is our bread? Which is our inheritance(heredity)?. A land where they continué fighting battles forever to have the power, ironically also for defending ideal from some that are incapable in pondering if it is what our people(village) deserves, there is Bolívar if
SOURCE
You could see what done with the mother land that so much you said to love and in your name they do, where it is not important if the persons search between(among) the garbage to be able to eat something, where the children do not go to the school for not having food, I encourage not even hope, when they see his(her,your) parents going, brothers, familiare, many of his(her,your) friends and that to looking for a better future, if they run with luck achieve it and other times to add mas pains to his(her,your) life.
SOURCE
From the foundation of our country always God it is bendecido, with big natural marvels, resources that sobreabudan the unimagined, human talent that today we see to be going to look for new courses, a country of incomparable beauty, is sad to see omo for years a group of persons have taken all the power in his(her,your) hands without remembering(reminding) what said Bolívar " Nothing is so dangerous as to stop to remain long time the same citizen in the power. The people(village) gets used to obeying him and he(it) to ordering it, wherefrom the usurpation and the tyranny originate ". This has taken that such a wonderful alone people finds in his(her,your) being the antonym of the hope, where the love fills detristeza before the oio and the egoism.
The poem mentions. The freedom shakes the bloody(bleeding) bells, and a terrible sound of pains precedes the dawn reddened by the blood of the man Libertador. Perouno of the thoughts of Bolívar says. Under the dictatorship who can speak about Freedom?.
SOURCE
Neruda mentions in his(her,your) work. La Paz, the bread, the wheat of your blood were born of our young woman blood come from your blood saldran peace, bread and wheat for the world that we will do. All the young persons died, those anonymous boys that today still his(her,your) mothers cry, worked out entrusted to protesting for the jutiia, not uselessly the symbol of the justice has you bandage in his(her,your) eyes.
Today only I want to remember(remind) the thought of Bolívar that. The art of vener is learned in the defeats. This ignifica that like that you never fall down(never fall,never fall due) and fall(fall due) give up yourself because algun day vencera, which perseveres wins(expires). To have the faith put in God who was taking the control, and that everything what we have spent(passed) are the afterpains for a new birth of a wonderful being. Venezuelan friends at the time it is time to be born.
A SINGING FOR BOLÍVAR, PAUL NERUDA GIVES.
Fragments
He(She) gives birth nuetro that these in the land, in the water, in the air
Of all our extensive silent latitude,
Everything takes your name, father, in our mansion.
Your apellio the cane raises the sweetness,
The tin Bolívar has a brilliancy Bolívar,
The bird Bolívar on the volcano Bolívar,
The potato, the salistre, the special shades, the currents, the veta of phosphoric stone,
Everything ours comes from your subdued(switched off) life,
Your inheritance(heredity) is our bread and every day, father.
(....)
The freedom shakes the bloody(bleeding) bells,
And a terrible sound of pains precedes
The dawn enrojeida for the blood of the man.
Liberator, a world of peace nacio in your arms.
La Paz, the bread, the wheat of your blood were born,
Of our young woman blood come from your blood
Saldran peace, bread and wheat for the world that we will do.
I conoi to Bolívar a morning it(he,she) talks,
In Madrid, in the mouth of the fifth regiment.
Father, I said to him(her), are you or are not or who you are?
And looking at the barrack of the mountain, he(she) said:
It(He,She) wakes up every hundred years when it(he,she) wakes the people up(village up).
SOURCE
Paul Neruda's biography.
Chilean poet, his(her,your) works has been translated into countless languages. When he was a child, salia to accompanying his(her,your) father in his(her,your) railway trips. As poet, escribia on the simple things and it(he,she) was highlighting his(her,your) value. His(her,your) life transcurrio between(among) 1.904 and 1.973. Neruda was compromotido with or mother land. Because of it it(he,she) was during all his(her,your) life a passionate defender of Chile, as poet, diplomatic senator.
SOURCE