...Noche, nieve y arena hacen la forma de mi delgada patria, todo el silencio está en su larga línea, toda la espuma sale de su barba marina, todo el carbón la llena de misteriosos besos. Como una brasa el oro arde en sus dedos y la plata ilumina como una luna verde su endurecida forma de tétrico planeta... ...Night, snow, and sand compose the shape of my slender homeland, all the silence is in its long line, all the foam flows from its seabeard, all the coal fills it with mysterious kisses. Gold burns in its fingers like an amber and silver illuminates like a green moon its thinckened shadow of a sullen planet...

Pablo Neruda (1904 - 1973)

Neither bridge nor boat, brought me here.
No one told me, it was island or shore.
A land I did not search for, and did not discover.
Like a fable, that I learned,
a dream of taking, and letting go,
and it is my land, where I live and die.

Gabriela Mistral, Land of Absence

The wave that you release -arch of identity, starry plume - when it broke it was just form and it rose again without expiring. All you force becomes origin again.

you only deliver crushed debris, detritus removed from your cargo, whatever the action of your abundance expelled. everything that ceased to be cluster.

It's been thousands and thousand of years of stone. I was a stonecutter and this is what I did striking without rands or hammer, piercing without chisel,

staring into the sun without eyes, without being, without existence but in the wind, with only a wave for my thought, without tools other than time, the times, the passing time.

Will you ask me if the statue on which I kept Consuming so many fingernails, hands and dark arms reserves a syllable of the crater from you, an ancient aroma, preserved by a sign of lava?

There is nothing, the statues are what we were, we are, our brow that beheld the waves, our substance, sometimes interrupted, sometimes continued in the stone that resembles us.

It's true, it isn't a story
there is a Guardian Angel
who takes you and carries you like the wind
and goes with children wherever children go.

Gabriela Mistral, The Guardian Angel

The oldest bull crossed the day. His legs scratched the planet. He continued, travelling to where the sea lives, He reached the shore, the oldest bull. On the edge of time, the ocean, He closed his eyes and grass covered him. He breathed the whole green distance. And silence built the rest. Pablo Neruda, The Bull

Among the stones of the coast, walking,
by the shore of Chile,
farther off
sea and sea, moon and sea grass,
the lonely expanse of the planet.

Pablo Neruda, Solitudes

In the pure night my mourning shaped in the labyrinth of my body,
and this night breath enveloped me,
this smoke they call mourning that engulfs and blinds me.

Gabriela Mistral, Mourning

All Creatures are sliding aslant
down toward forgetfulness and sleep.
You and I, also, my baby,
tumble down toward night's keep.

Gabriela Mistral, Night

May the same vagabond wave that takes you, return you. May the road not entwine itself about your neck like a serpent.

May the same vagabond wave that takes you, return you. May the road not entwine itself about your neck like a serpent.

These stones aren't sad. Within them lives gold, they have the seeds of planets, they have bells in their depths,

gloves of iron, marriages of time with the amethysts: on the inside laughing with rubies, nourishing themselves from lightning.

Pablo Neruda, To the Traveller

Reaching out at the night on the terrace of a very tall and sullen skyscraper,

I could touch the nocturnal canopy and in an act of extraordinary love I grabbed a celestial star.

Perhaps its foliage
already clothes my dream...

Gabriela Mistral, Final Tree

Fatherland, summer covers your sweet and tough body. Your mountainous borders are tall and blue
like a carbon copy of heaven, and from there snow has departed, galloping with turbulent lips toward
the sea. Perhaps, at this very monent, you wear the green tunic I adore; forests, water, and wheat in
your waist. Oh marine land, with the sea you move your iridescent universe of sand and oysters.

Pablo Neruda, Greetings

Gabriela Mistral (1889 - 1957) ¡YO NO TENGO SOLEDAD!
Es la noche desamparo de las sierras hasta el mar. Pero yo, la que te mece, ¡yo no tengo soledad!	Es el cielo desamparo si la Luna cae al mar. Pero yo, la que te estrecha, ¡yo no tengo soledad!	Es el mundo desamparo y la carne triste va. Pero yo, la que te oprime, ¡yo no tengo soledad!
I AM NOT ALONE!
The night, it is deserted from the mountains to the sea. But I, the one who rocks you, I am not alone!	The sky, it is deserted for the moon falls to the sea. But I, the one who holds you, I am not alone!	The world, it is deserted. All flesh is sad you see. But I, the one who hugs you, I am not alone!