Poetry Friday: Ode to the Book

I wonder if someone has posted this one yet (probably!). If you have, please drop me a line.

Today I'm posting a excerpt from Pablo Neruda's "Ode to the Book." It's a poem with a message about art and the role of the artist. It's a message I don't entirely agree with, but it's interesting nonetheless.

No book has been able
to wrap me in paper,
to fill me up
with typography,
with heavenly imprints
or was ever able
to bind my eyes,
I come out of books to people orchards
with the hoarse family of my song,
to work the burning metals
or to eat smoked beef
by mountain firesides.
...
Book, let me go.
I won't go clothed
in volumes,
I don't come out
of collected works,
my poems
have not eaten poems--
they devour
exciting happenings,
feed on rough weather,
and dig their food
out of earth and men.
....
1954