I grew, drenched by nature’s waters,
like a mollusk in ocean phosphor:
in me shattered brine reverberated,
and laid down my proper skeleton.
How to explain? Almost without movement
of azure and bitter breath,
one by one the waves repeated
what I gave out, and throbbed,
till brine and juice formed me:
the disdain, the desire of a wave,
the green rhythm that from the hidden bulk
lifted up a translucent edifice,
that secret, it clasped to itself, and so
I sensed that I might pulse as it did:
that my song might grow with the waters.
Pablo Neruda |