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Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
For once on the face of the earth
Let's not speak in amy language,
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not liik at his hurt hands
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
wouls put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about,
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping out lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding outselves
and of threatening ourselves with death
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
Pablo Neruda, <Extravagaria>
translated by Alastair reid.
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