Pablo Neruda

(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973 / Parral)

The Dictators - Poem by Pablo Neruda

An odor has remained among the sugarcane:
a mixture of blood and body, a penetrating
petal that brings nausea.
Between the coconut palms the graves are full
of ruined bones, of speechless death-rattles.
The delicate dictator is talking
with top hats, gold braid, and collars.
The tiny palace gleams like a watch
and the rapid laughs with gloves on
cross the corridors at times
and join the dead voices
and the blue mouths freshly buried.
The weeping cannot be seen, like a plant
whose seeds fall endlessly on the earth,
whose large blind leaves grow even without light.
Hatred has grown scale on scale,
blow on blow, in the ghastly water of the swamp,
with a snout full of ooze and silence

Comments about The Dictators by Pablo Neruda

  • (12/15/2009 3:00:00 PM)

    I'm a fan as well. Nice work Pabloh. (Report) Reply

    7 person liked.
    11 person did not like.
  • john tiong chunghoo (7/13/2006 11:26:00 AM)

    lovely this poem pablo. i can relate. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: silence, water, death, light

Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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