Today is that day, the day that carried
a desperate light that since has died.
Don't let the squatters know:
let's keep it all between us,
day, between your bell
and my secret.
Today is dead winter in the forgotten land
that comes to visit me, with a cross on the map
and a volcano in the snow, to return to me,
to return again the water
fallen on the roof of my childhood.
Today when the sun began with its shafts
to tell the story, so clear, so old,
the slanting rain fell like a sword,
the rain my hard heart welcomes.
You, my love, still asleep in August,
my queen, my woman, my vastness, my geography
kiss of mud, the carbon-coated zither,
you, vestment of my persistent song,
today you are reborn again and with the sky's
black water confuse me and compel me:
I must renew my bones in your kingdom,
I must still uncloud my earthly duties.
STILL ANOTHER DAY (Aún) one long work made of many short poems, is considered to be among Neruda's finest long poems. Neruda was very aware of his imminent death when he wrote the 28 cantos. They were composed during two intensely lyrical days, launching the poet on a personal expedition in search of his deepest roots. Aún is a soaring tribute to the history and survival of the Chilean people. The poem invokes the Araucanian Indians, the conquistadors who tried to enslave them, folklore, the people and places of his childhood and the sights and smells of the marketplace. As in the best poetry, Neruda's particulars become profoundly universal.
in Pablo Neruda's ''Aun'' ''Aun, Pablo Neruda's long patriotic poem... is a soaring and inspiriting tribute to the Chilean people, their history and their survival.''
'' We the mortals touch the metals, the wind, the ocean shores, the stones, knowing they will go on, inert or burning, and I was discovering, naming all the these things: it was my destiny to love and say goodbye. '' simply beautiful...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
ou, my love, still asleep in August, my queen, my woman, my vastness, my geography kiss of mud, the carbon-coated zither, you, vestment of my persistent song, what a beautiful poem. tony