Wednesday, May 11, 2005

by pablo neruda from the unburied woman of paita


who Lived? who was living? who was loving?

Damn spanish spider webs!

During the night, the blaze of equatorial eyes,
your heart burning in the vast emptiness,
and so your mouth was mistaken for the dawn.

Manuela, radiant coal and water, column
of sustenance, not a restless ceiling, but rather a wild star.

today, we still inhale that wounded love,
the dagger of sun in the distance.

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