Tuesday, June 27, 2006
The Enigmas by Pablo Neruda
You ask me what the lobster is weaving down there with its golden feet,
I tell you, the ocean knows this
You say who is the acedia waiting for in its transparent bell,
I tell you its waiting for time, like you
You say who does the macrocystis algae hug in its arms?
Study it. Study it at a certain hour and in a certain sea I know
You question me about the wicked tusk of the narwhale
and I respond by describing to you how the sea unicorn
with a harpoon in it, dies
Inquire about the kingfisher's feathers
which tremble in the purest springs of the southern shores
I want to tell you that the ocean knows this,
That life, in its jewel boxes, is endless as the sand,
impossible to count, pure
And the time among the blood colored grapes
has made the petal hard and shiny,
Filled the jellyfish with light, untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall
From a horn of plenty made of infinite mother of pearl
I'm nothing but the empty net which has gone on ahead of human eyes,
Dead in the darkness', of fingers accustomed to the triangle,
Longitudes in the timid globe of an orange
I walked around like you investigating the endless star
And in my net during the night I woke up naked
The only thing caught, a fish, trapped inside the wind
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1 comment:
Stephen Neal here and the bell now tolls for thee.
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