This site is intended to be viewed with javascript enabled; please upgrade or reset your browser.

See here for more details.

Literature and Ideas

Antarctic Rock

Over there is where everything ends
and does not end;
there, too, is the place
where everything begins.

Rivers fling themselves across the ice,
the snow and air betrothed.
No streets nor steeds to ride
or stroll. But for that building,
built out of rock.

Nobody lives in that castle.
Not even lost souls,
those that are haunted
by cold and the wind.

Over there is nothing but solitude,
the solitude of the world.
Which explains why the rock
became music itself.

It straightened its slender stature
and rose in order to scream
or to sing,
but then it stayed silent.

Only the wind,
scourge of the whistling
South Pole.

Only the blind
expanses of white
and the sound of a rainbird's cry
over the castle where nothing survives
but solitude.
Allí termina todo
y no termina:
allí comienza todo:
se despiden los ríos en el hielo,
el aire se ha casado con la nieve,
no hay calles ni caballos
y el único edificio
lo construyó la piedra.
Nadie habita el castillo
ni las almas perdidas
que frío y viento frío
amedrentaron:
es sola allí la soledad del mundo,
y por eso la piedra
se hizo música,
elevó sus delgadas estaturas,
se levantó para gritar o cantar,
pero se quedó muda.
Sólo el viento,
el látigo
del Polo Sur que silba,
sólo el vacío blanco
y un sonido de pájaro de lluvia
sobre el castillo de la soledad.

Pablo Neruda

No comments — you could leave the first.

Please login or register to leave a comment.