Alliance (Sonata)




From dusty glances fallen to earth
or from silent leaves buried underground.
From metals without light, with the void,
with the absence of the day dead from a blow.
In the height of the hands the dazzling of butterflies,
the extracting of butterflies with an endless light.

You kept this trail of light, of broken beings
abandoned by the sun, darkening, hurled at churches.
Stained with glances, with an object of bees,
your material an unexpected flame in flight
precedes and follows the day and its family of gold.

The days lying in wait cross in secrecy
but fall inside your voice of light.
Oh guardians of love, in your rest
I melted my dream, my quiet attitude.

With your body of timid number, extended at once
toward the quantities that define the earth,
behind the battle of the white days of space

and cold, of slow death and withered stimulants,
I feel your lap burning and the passage of your kisses
forging fresh swallows in my dreams.

At times the destiny of your tears ascends
like age toward my forehead, over there
where waves are beating, destroying themselves with death:
its movement is humid, dispirited, final.


Pablo Neruda