"A DOG HAS DIED" BY PABLO NERUDA
A Dog Has Died, nothing more nothing less. No melancholy cries of anguish just straightforward, utilitarian and direct.
Hey bloggers, so today I thought I might catch you up with a poem that I thought should be considered part of the Greatest Poetry of All Time. The Chilean poet-diplomat and politician named Pablo_Neruda wrote the poem “A Dog Has Died”in the 1900s. Pablo Neruda once quoted, “Love is so short, forgetting is so long.” This quote clearly depicts the theme of his poem of the loss of love. He illustrates his theme through numerous poetic devices such as imagery through metaphor and consonance.
We all know what it feels like to loose something you love whether it was a favourite book or clothing, it hurts. But Pablo Neruda expresses his loss of something more throughout his poem, the loss of a man’s best friend. In the poem the very first words are, “My dog has dieD. I burieD him in the garDen next to a rusteD olD machine.” (Stanza 1, Line 1-3) This poetic device of consonance is used when repetition of the same consonant appears two or more times in short succession. Throughout these lines Pablo Neruda has used consonance to imitate the word ‘end; that resembles the end of a life. By using this technique it creates a connection and gives life to the reader’s heart. Another example is when he is comparing his dog to others and alludes to the fact that his dog was different to all the rest. “He never climbED all over my clothes, he never rubbED up against my knee like other dogs obsessED with sex.” (Stanza 3 Line 9-12) By repeating the consonance ‘ED’ Pablo emphasizes that his dog is dead and gone, never to return, he has lost his love therefore it is all in past tense.
The imagery used by the Poet is sigh-worthy beauty and is done so through metaphor. For instance, “As we walked together on the shores of the sea in the lonely winter of Isla Negra where the wintering birds filled the sky, and my hairy dog was jumping about.”(Stanza 5 Line 2-5) This reflects to me, as it does reflect so truthfully, the different levels of appreciation, joy and trust one man may reach with his ever giving dog. Neruda has used metaphor in this line through the words ‘shore’, ‘lonely winter’and ‘hairy dog jumping about’. The shore resembles the tide and how life will always change, we will have highs and lows. The lonely winter is a metaphor for how the Poet feels yet when he sees his hairy dog jumping about he is filled will awe and joy. In a way I think his dog resembles optimism.
Overall, Pablo Neruda has created a beautiful poem with the use of consonance and metaphor. I believe he has rightfully earnt a spot in the Greatest Poetry of All Time.
A Dog Has Died
My dog has died. I buried him in the garden next to a rusted old machine. Some day I'll join him right there, but now he's gone with his shaggy coat, his bad manners and his cold nose, and I, the materialist, who never believed in any promised heaven in the sky for any human being, I believe in a heaven I'll never enter. Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom where my dog waits for my arrival waving his fan-like tail in friendship. Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth, of having lost a companion who was never servile. His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine withholding its authority, was the friendship of a star, aloof, with no more intimacy than was called for, with no exaggerations: he never climbed all over my clothes filling me full of his hair or his mange, he never rubbed up against my knee like other dogs obsessed with sex. No, my dog used to gaze at me, paying me the attention I need, the attention required to make a vain person like me understand that, being a dog, he was wasting time, but, with those eyes so much purer than mine, he'd keep on gazing at me with a look that reserved for me alone all his sweet and shaggy life, always near me, never troubling me, and asking nothing. Ai, how many times have I envied his tail as we walked together on the shores of the sea in the lonely winter of Isla Negra where the wintering birds filled the sky and my hairy dog was jumping about full of the voltage of the sea's movement: my wandering dog, sniffing away with his golden tail held high, face to face with the ocean's spray. Joyful, joyful, joyful, as only dogs know how to be happy with only the autonomy of their shameless spirit. There are no good-byes for my dog who has died, and we don't now and never did lie to each other. So now he's gone and I buried him, and that's all there is to it.
By Pablo Neruda