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The Morning is Full
The morning is full of storm in the heart of summer.
The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of good-bye,
The numberless heart of the wind beating above our loving silence.
Orchestral and divine, resounding among the trees like a language full of wars and songs.
Wind that bears off the dead leaves with a quick raid and deflects the pulsing arrows of the birds.
Wind that topples her in a wave without spray and substance without weight, and leaning fires.
Her mass of kisses breaks and sinks,
Es La Mañana Llena
Es la mañana lleno de tempestad en el corazón del verano.
Como pañuelos blancos de adiós las nubes,
Innumerable el corazón del viento latiendo sobre nuestro silencio enamorado.
Zumbando entre los árboles, orquestal y divino,
Viento que lleva rápido robo la hojarasca y desvia las flechas latientes de los parajos.
Viento que le derriba en ola sin espuma y sustancia sin peso, y fuegos inclinados.
Se rompe y se submerge su volumen de besos combatido en la puerta del viento del verano.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair"
by .
Copyright © 2003 Pablo Neruda.
Excerpted by permission of Penguin Publishing Group.
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