Casa de Mantaras en Punta del Este
What a lot falls from the pine,
green mustaches,
music,
pine cones like pinnacles
or armadillos
or like books with leaves you detach.
Also fell on my face
the subtle petal
fastened to a black seed:
it was a hymenopterous wing
of the pine,
a transmigration
of suavities
in which flight joined
roots.
Fall
treedrops,
punctuations,
vowels, consonants,
violins,
falls the rain,
silence,
everything falls from the pine,
from vertical air:
falls the scent,
dark riddled
with day,
night fair
as moon milk,
night black
as that absence.
Comes the dawn.
And falls
a new day
from atop the pine,
falls with its clock,
with its hands
and its hollows,
and darkling the pine
needles sew
another night to daytime,
another day to night,
<font size="1">Neruda, tr. C.M.</size>
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