One of the books I bought on impulse the other day was Pablo Neruda's "The Book of Questions." It's poetry book of questions. Here's an example:
Can you love me, syllabary,
and give me a meaningful kiss?
Is a dictionary a sepulchre
or a sealed honeycomb?
In which window did I remain
watching buried time?
Or is what I see from afar
what I have not yet lived?
Each poem is presented in its English translation and the original Spanish.
The inside cover says this: In The Book of Questions, Pablo Neruda refuses to be corralled by the rational mind. Composed entirely of unanswerable couplets, the poems integrate the wonder of a child with the experiences of an adult. Whether comic, surreal, or Orphic, Neruda's poignant questions lead the reader beyond reason into realms of sudden intuition and pure imagination.
It's a delightful little book.
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