Your Laughter
Take bread away from me, if you wish,
Take air away, but
Do not take from me your laughter.
Do not take away the rose,
The lance flower that you pluck,
The water that suddenly bursts forth in joy,
The sudden wave of silver born in you.
My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired
at times from having seen the unchanging earth,
But when your laughter enters, it rises to the sky seeking me
And it opens for me all the doors of life.
My love, in the darkest hour your laughter opens,
And if suddenly you see my blood staining the stones of the street,
Laugh, because your laughter
Will be for my hands like a fresh sword.
Next to the sea in the autumn,
Your laughter must raise its foamy cascade,
And in the spring, love, I want your laughter like
The flower I was waiting for, the blue flower, the rose of my echoing country.
Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon,
Laugh at the twisted streets of the island,
Laugh at this clumsy boy, who loves you,
But when I open my eyes and close them,
When my steps go, when my steps return,
Deny me bread, air, light, spring,
But never your laughter for I would die.
Take bread away from me, if you wish,
Take air away, but
Do not take from me your laughter.
Do not take away the rose,
The lance flower that you pluck,
The water that suddenly bursts forth in joy,
The sudden wave of silver born in you.
My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired
at times from having seen the unchanging earth,
But when your laughter enters, it rises to the sky seeking me
And it opens for me all the doors of life.
My love, in the darkest hour your laughter opens,
And if suddenly you see my blood staining the stones of the street,
Laugh, because your laughter
Will be for my hands like a fresh sword.
Next to the sea in the autumn,
Your laughter must raise its foamy cascade,
And in the spring, love, I want your laughter like
The flower I was waiting for, the blue flower, the rose of my echoing country.
Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon,
Laugh at the twisted streets of the island,
Laugh at this clumsy boy, who loves you,
But when I open my eyes and close them,
When my steps go, when my steps return,
Deny me bread, air, light, spring,
But never your laughter for I would die.
Pablo Neruda
No comments:
Post a Comment