Enigmas

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    <strong>Enigmas</strong>

    Youve asked me what the lobster is weaving there with

    his golde?

    <kbd></kbd>I reply, the o knows this.

    You say, what is the ascidia waiting for in its transparent

    bell? What is it waiting for?

    I tell you it is waiting for time, like you.

    You ask me whom the Macrocystis alga hugs in its arms?

    Study, study it, at a certain hour, in a certa<bdi></bdi>in sea I know.

    You question me about the wicked tusk of the narwhal,

    and I reply by describing

    how the sea uni with the harpoon in it dies.

    You enquire about the kingfishers feathers,

    which tremble in the pure springs of the southern tides?

    Or youve found in the cards a new question toug on

    the crystal architecture

    of the sea anemone, and youll deal that to me now?

    You want to uand the electriature of the o

    spines?

    <details></details>The armored stalactite that breaks as it walks?

    The hook of the angler fish, the music stretched out

    in the deep places like a thread ier?

    I want to tell you the o knows this, that life in its

    jewel box<kbd></kbd>es

    is endless as the sand, impossible to t, pure,

    and among the blood-crapes time has made the

    petal

    hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light

    and us knot, letting its musical threads fall

    from a horn of plenty made of infiher-of-pearl.

    I am nothing but the empty  which has gone on ahead

    of human eyes, dead in those darknesses,

    of fingers aced to the triangle, longitudes

    oimid globe of an e.

    I walked around as you do, iigating

    the endless star,

    and in my , during the night, I woke up naked,

    the only thing caught, a fish trapped ihe wind.

    Translated by Robert Bly

    <strong>Pablo Neruda</strong><big></big>

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