Finale – Pablo Neruda

Matilde, years or days 

sleeping, feverish, 

here or there, 

gazing off, 

twisting my spine, 

bleeding true blood, 

perhaps I awaken 

or am lost, sleeping: 

hospital beds, foreign windows, 

white uniforms of the silent walkers, 

the clumsiness of feet. 
And then, these journeys 

and my sea of renewal: 

your head on the pillow, 

your hands floating 

in the light, in my light, 

over my earth. 
It was beautiful to live 

when you lived! 
The world is bluer and of the earth 

at night, when I sleep 

enormous, within your small hands

I Like For You To Be Still – Pablo Neruda

i like for you to be still 

it is as though you are absent 

And you hear me from far away 

And my voice does not touch you 

it seems as though your eyes had flown away 

And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth 

As all things are filled with my soul 

You emerge from the things 

Filled with my soul 

You are like my soul 

A butterfly of dream 

And you are like the word: Melancholy 
i like for you to be still 

And you seem far away 

it sounds as though you are lamenting 

A butterfly cooing like a dove 

And you hear me from far away 

And my voice does not reach you 

Let me come to be still in your silence 

And let me talk to you with your silence 

That is bright as a lamp 

Simple, as a ring 

You are like the night 

With its stillness and constellations 

Your silence is that of a star 

As remote and candid 
i like for you to be still 

it is as though you are absent 

Distant and full of sorrow 

So you would’ve died 

One word then, One smile is enough 

And i’m happy; 

Happy that it’s not true

Gentleman Alone – Pablo Neruda

The young maricones and the horny muchachas, 

The big fat widows delirious from insomnia, 

The young wives thirty hours’ pregnant, 

And the hoarse tomcats that cross my garden at night, 

Like a collar of palpitating sexual oysters 

Surround my solitary home, 

Enemies of my soul, 

Conspirators in pajamas 

Who exchange deep kisses for passwords. 

Radiant summer brings out the lovers 

In melancholy regiments, 

Fat and thin and happy and sad couples; 

Under the elegant coconut palms, near the ocean and moon, 

There is a continual life of pants and panties, 

A hum from the fondling of silk stockings, 

And women’s breasts that glisten like eyes. 

The salary man, after a while, 

After the week’s tedium, and the novels read in bed at night, 

Has decisively fucked his neighbor, 

And now takes her to the miserable movies, 

Where the heroes are horses or passionate princes, 

And he caresses her legs covered with sweet down 

With his ardent and sweaty palms that smell like cigarettes. 

The night of the hunter and the night of the husband 

Come together like bed sheets and bury me, 

And the hours after lunch, when the students and priests are masturbating, 

And the animals mount each other openly, 

And the bees smell of blood, and the flies buzz cholerically, 

And cousins play strange games with cousins, 

And doctors glower at the husband of the young patient, 

And the early morning in which the professor, without a thought, 

Pays his conjugal debt and eats breakfast, 

And to top it all off, the adulterers, who love each other truly 

On beds big and tall as ships: 

So, eternally, 

This twisted and breathing forest crushes me 

With gigantic flowers like mouth and teeth 

And black roots like fingernails and shoes. 

Gautama Christ – Pablo Neruda

The names of God and especially those of His representative 

Who is called Jesus or Christ according to holy books and 

someone’s mouth 

These names have been used, worn out and left 

On the shores of rivers of of human lives 

Like the empty shells of a mollusk. 

However when we touch these sacred but exhausted 

Names, these wounded scattered petals 

Which have come out of the oceans of love and fear 

Something still remains, a sip of water, 

A rainbow footprint that still shimmers in the light. 

While the names of God were used 

By the best and the worst, by the clean and the dirty 

By the white and the black, by bloody murderers 

And by victims flaming gold with napalm 

While Nixon with his hands 

Of Cain blessed those whom he condemned to death, 

While fewer and fewer divine footprints were found 

on the beach 

People began to study colors, 

The future of honey, the sign of uranium 

They looked with anxiety and hope for the possibilities 

Of killing themselves or not killing themselves, of organizing 

themselves into a fabric 

Of going further on, of breaking through limits without stopping 
What we came across in these blood thirsty times 

With their smoke of burning trash, their dead ashes 

As we weren’t able to stop looking 

We often stopped to look at the names of God 

We lifted them with tenderness because they reminded us 

Of our ancestors, of the first people, those who said the prayers 

Those who discovered the hymn that united them in misfortune 

And now seeing the empty fragments which sheltered those 

ancient people 

We feel those smooth substances, 

Worn out and used up by good and by evil.

I Like For You To Be Still – Pablo Neruda

i like for you to be still 

it is as though you are absent 

And you hear me from far away 

And my voice does not touch you 

it seems as though your eyes had flown away 

And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth 

As all things are filled with my soul 

You emerge from the things 

Filled with my soul 

You are like my soul 

A butterfly of dream 

And you are like the word: Melancholy 
i like for you to be still 

And you seem far away 

it sounds as though you are lamenting 

A butterfly cooing like a dove 

And you hear me from far away 

And my voice does not reach you 

Let me come to be still in your silence 

And let me talk to you with your silence 

That is bright as a lamp 

Simple, as a ring 

You are like the night 

With its stillness and constellations 

Your silence is that of a star 

As remote and candid 
i like for you to be still 

it is as though you are absent 

Distant and full of sorrow 

So you would’ve died 

One word then, One smile is enough 

And i’m happy; 

Happy that it’s not true