Saturday, August 29, 2009

Almost Out of the Sky


Almost out of the sky, half of the moon
anchors between two mountains.
Turning, wandering night, the digger of eyes.
Let's see how many stars are smashed in the pool.

It makes a cross of mourning between my eyes, and runs away.
Forge of blue metals, nights of stilled combats,
my heart revolves like a crazy wheel.
Girl who have come from so far, been brought from so far,
sometimes your glance flashes out under the sky.
Rumbling, storm, cyclone of fury,
you cross above my heart without stopping.
Wind from the tombs carries off, wrecks, scatters your sleepy root.

The big trees on the other side of her, unprooted.
But you, cloudless girl, question of smoke, corn tassel.
You were what the wind was making with illuminated leaves.
Behind the nocturnal mountains, white lily of conflagration,
ah, I can say nothing! You were made of everything.

Longing that sliced my breast into pieces,
it is time to take another road, on which she does not smile.

Storm that buries the bells, muddy swirl of torments,
why touch her now, why make her sad.

Oh to follow the road that leads away from everything,
without anguish, death, winter waiting along it
with their eyes open through the dew.


Pablo Neruda
:weheartit

2 comments:

Lydia said...

If I could have the gift of being able to write like one poet in all of time, I do believe it would be Neruda.
Surely, before life blasts and kisses us, we each have thought we were made of everything. If not thought so, just felt it...at least once long ago.

Mary Ellen said...

What a powerful piece - from a life experience (male, that is) not my own, but I can feel the bewildering enchantment even so.