Pablo Neruda
Twenty poems of love and a song of despair (1924)
IV
This week is filled with storm
growing from the core of the summer.
Wind rustles wandering hands
white clouds - as handkerchiefs goodbye.
Countless hearts wind
beats over our love silence.
And buzzing in the trees a wonderful orchestra -
prophetic bell, full of battles and songs.
Wind breaks and blows leaves from trees,
deviates from the target arrows quivering birds.
Wind overthrows its ground waves without foam
substance weightless tilting fire.
Crashes and sinking ship of kisses
at the entrance to the harbor - a windy summer day.
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V
To you I heard,
my words
sometimes flat out
like a seagull footprints in the sand.
Bracelet, bell drunk
for your gentle hands, like a grape.
My words are visible in the distance.
Rather, yours than mine.
My old pain, they twist around ivy.
They climb up the damp walls.
You're the one to blame for this bloody game.
They run away from my dark lair.
All you have to fill. All you have to fill.
My lonely world they inhabited before thee,
To my sorrow, they used more than you.
I want them to say something that I myself would say I
that you listened to them as if they - that's me.
Wind my sorrow drags them until now.
Hurricane dreams they are still burying.
In my voice mournful voices of others.
The blood of ancient prayers, weeping aged mouths.
Girlfriend, love me.
Do not leave. Stay.
Stay with me, my friend, on this sad wave.
But leave my words soaked in your love.
All you have to fill. All you have to fill.
I will gather them all in one bracelet is infinite,
to thine hand, white, soft, like grapes.
XVII
Thinking I weave shadows in the depths of loneliness.
You're far away again. Far as anyone else.
Thinking, birds are released, dispersing his obsession.
And I commend the ground lights.
Belfry of fogs - at inaccessible heights!
Choking with tears, a shadow of hope rubbed in the dust:
taciturn miller
night catch you face down in a deserted wilderness.
I am alien to your proximity: it is too similar to things.
I step on the long road, my life - before you.
My life - above all else. My tart life.
To the sea draw your cry. Around - just rocks.
Run as a free madman, right in the sweat of the sea.
Mournful cry of rage and loneliness of the sea.
Arrogance and shamelessness, I ascend to heaven.
The woman, whom have you been? You were the ray and the spokes
infinite fan. Was far as it is now.
Forest, enveloped in a fire! Crucifixes in fiery nimbus.
Feast of the flame. Crackling fire. Light trees.
Destruction and death. Throughout the fire. Fire.
And my soul is dancing among the fiery shavings.
Who is calling me? Who inhabits the echoes of silence?
This is - an hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.
It's - my only an hour!
Shout, which sings a passing breeze.
Moaning with passion ishlestano my body.
Concussion roots
waves of an endless onslaught!
My soul endlessly circling, rejoices, grieves.
Meditate, have given ground lights in the depths of loneliness.
Who are you? Who are you?
XX
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example: "Vyzvezdilo dark sky
And blue stars shiver in the sky gave. "
The wind whirls in the night sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
In the same night as this, I hugged her.
How many times have I kissed her under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
And how could not love these huge eyes?
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Think that she is not with me. Feel - I lost it.
Now I can hear how immense night.
And the lines fell into the soul like dew on the meadows.
Well so what, once my love to save it failed?
Vyzvezdilo dark sky, but it's not with me.
That's it. In the distance someone is singing. Away.
My soul can not live with this loss.
My eyes looking for her to be by her side.
My heart searches for her, but she is not with me.
The same night, and in the mist whiten the same trees.
Once we have changed, and we will not be the same.
I no longer love her, true, but how I loved her before.
Wind was searching for my voice to touch her hearing.
With others. It will be another. And I kissed her before.
Her voice, clear, her body, her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, no doubt, and still love to this day.
So love is fleeting, so immensely oblivion.
Indeed, in the same night as this, I hugged her.
My soul can not live with this loss.
Even if this is the last pain she had hurt me,
And if this is the last line which I am writing it.
Translated by Andrei Schetnikova