Pablo Neruda: Estación inmóvil

“Quiero no saber ni soñar.
Quién puede enseñarme a no ser,
a vivir sin seguir viviendo?

Cómo continúa el agua?
Cuál es el cielo de las piedras?

Inmóvil, hasta que detengan
las migraciones su apogeo
y luego vuelen con sus flechas
hacia el archipiélago frío.

Inmóvil, con secreta vida
como una ciudad subterránea
para que resbalen los días
como gotas inabarcables:
nada se gasta ni se muere
hasta nuestra resurrección,
hasta regresar con los pasos
de la primavera enterrada,
de lo que yacía perdido,
inacabablemente inmóvil
y que ahora sube desde no ser
a ser una rama florida.”


Stationary Point

“I would know nothing, dream nothing:
who will teach my non-being
how to be, without striving to be?

How can the water endure it?
What sky have the stones dreamed?

Immobile, until those migrations
delay at their apogee
and fly on their arrows
toward the cold archipelago.

Unmoved in its secretive life,
like an underground city,
so the days may glide down
like ungraspable dew:
nothing fails, or shall perish,
until we be born again,
until all that lay plundered
be restored with the tread
of the springtime we buried—
the unceasingly stilled, as it lifts
itself out of non-being, even now,
to be flowering bough.”

Published by cougarox the geophotocacher

Four Corners photographer, light chaser, educator, geek

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