The Cuban

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I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda

POESIAS NERUDA 7

Poesia

Y fue a esa edad . . . Llegó la poesía

a buscarme. No sé, no sé de dónde

salió, de inverno o río.

No sé cómo ni cuándo,

no, no eran voces, no eran

palabras, ni silencio,

pero desde una calle me llamaba,

desde las ramas de la noche

de pronto entre los otros,

entre fuegos violentos

o regresando solo,

allí estaba sin rostro

y me tocaba.

Yo no qué decir, mi boca

no sabía

nombrar,

mis ojos eran ciegos,

y algo golpeaba en mi alma,

fiebre o alas perdidas,

y me fui haciendo solo,

descifrando

aquella quemadura,

y escribí la primera línea vaga,

vaga sin cuerpo, pura

tontería,

pura sabiduría,

del que no sabe nada,

y vi de pronto

el cielo

desgranado

y abierto,

planetas,

plantaciones palpitantes,

la sombra perforada,

acribillada

por flechas, fuego y flores,

la noche arrolladora, el universo.

Y yo, minimo ser,

ebrio del gran vacío

constelado,

a semejanza, a imagen

del misterio,

me sentí parte pura

del abismo,

rodé con las estrellas,

mi corazón se desató en el viento.

Pablo Neruda

POESIAS NERUDA 6

Wind on the Island
By Pablo Neruda

The wind is a horse:
hear how he runs
through the sea, through the sky.

He wants to take me: listen
how he roves the world
to take me far away.

Hide me in your arms
just for this night,
while the rain breaks
against sea and earth
its innumerable mouth.

Listen how the wind
calls to me galloping
to take me far away.

With your brow on my brow,
with your mouth on my mouth,
our bodies tied
to the love that consumes us,
let the wind pass
and not take me away.

Let the wind rush
crowned with foam,
let it call to me and seek me
galloping in the shadow,
while I, sunk
beneath your big eyes,
just for this night
shall rest, my love.