I Explain a Few Things - Pablo Neruda

Traitorous
generals:
look at my dead house
look at shattered Spain

Poem V - Pablo Neruda

For you to hear,

my words

sometimes grow thin

as seagull tracks on the beach.

Table talk - Manuel Magallanes Moure

The little old lady laughs like a little girl, going

On with the tale of this and that happy day.

Says the little old lady, “Oh, what times were they

When I fell in love without Grandmother’s knowing!"

Eclogue - Vicente Huidobro

                                    Sun about to die

The car broken down

And a smell of spring

Remains as the air sweeps by

Echo of Another Sonata - Enrique Lihn

                In your opinion one love erases another

and so it is, dear, yet in love not everything

belongs to the dart and quiver—

Prelude to hope - Vicente Huidobro

You sing and sing you talk and talk

And roll on through time

And weep like a wild lily

Children’s Hair - Gabriela Mistral

Soft hair, hair that is all the softness of the world:

without you lying in my lap, what silk would I enjoy?

The Water Mirror - Vicente Huidobro

My mirror, a current in the nights,

Becomes a brook and leaves my room.

Night - Vicente Huidobro

You hear the night glide across the snow

The song fell down from the trees

I Go Find Sleep - Héctor Hernández Montecinos

Chile is the name of my father
Think of him
what do you see?

Ecstasy - Gabriela Mistral

Now, O Christ, seal my eyelids,
Let ice on my lips be spread!

Bruno Bends, Falls (1) - Raúl Zurita

In front the mountains emerge like a fine gauze
that curves over the shadows. The snow of the
cordillera phosphoresces lightly, like a gauze
that floats. Above, the infinite stars and the black
sky. Words are tenuous, the stars are tenuous.

The Desert of Atacama VI - Raúl Zurita

Arid plains do not dream
             No one has ever managed to see
             Those chimerical pampas

To See Him Again - Gabriela Mistral

Never, never again?
Not on nights filled with quivering stars,
or during dawn's maiden brightness
or afternoons of sacrifice?

The Desert of Atacama V - Raúl Zurita

           Speak of the whistle of Atacama
           the wind erases like snow
           the colour of that plain

Your Hands - Pablo Neruda

When your hands leap
towards mine, love,
what do they bring me in flight?

Young poets - Nicanor Parra

Write as you will
In whatever style you like

The Sad Mother - Gabriela Mistral

Sleep, sleep, my beloved,
without worry, without fear,
although my soul does not sleep,
although I do not rest.

Water - Pablo Neruda

Everything on earth bristled, the bramble
pricked and the green thread
bit, the petal fell
until the only flower was the falling.

Love Sonnet XII - Pablo Neruda

Woman ripe, carnal apple, sultry moon,

thick aroma of seaweed, mud and light mashed together,

what obscure clarity opens between your columns?

What night of ancient arousal does man touch with all his senses?