Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
Pablo Neruda
When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.
[original Spanish version]
Cuando no puedo mirar tu cara
miro tus pies.
Tus pies de hueso arqueado,
tus pequeños pies duros.
Yo se que te sostienen,
y que tu dulce peso
sobre ellos se levanta.
Tu cintura y tus pechos,
la duplicada purpura
de tus pezones,
la caja de tus ojos
que recien han volado,
tu ancha boca de fruta,
tu cabellera roja,
pequeña torre mia.
Pero no amo tus pies
sino porque anduvieron
sobre la tierra y sobre
el viento yo sobre el agua ,
hasta que me encontraron.