The wind combs my hair
like a motherly hand:
I open the door of memories
and my thoughts go away.
There are other voices, I lead,
It is distinguished from other lips my song:
even my cave of memories
has an uncanny clarity!
Fruits from other countries,
blue waves from other sea,
Love from other men, To Lead
Which I do not dare to remember.
And the wind, the wind combing me
like a motherly hand!
My truth is lost in the night:
I have no night or truth!
I'm in the middle of the road
you step on me, to go to.
About me go their hearts
drunk with wine, and dreams.
I am a stationary bridge between
Your heart and eternity.
If I were to die suddenly
würde ich nicht aufhören zu singen!
Pablo Neruda
Translation Carina
From Los poetas
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