Kindred

V II

The Seeker

By Pablo Neruda

I left to find what I lost

in enemy cities:

streets and doors closed on me,

they attacked me with fire and water,

they hurled shit at me.

I wanted only to find

broken toys in my dreams,

a small glass horse

or my exhumed clock.

No one wanted to understand

my melancholy destiny,

my absolute disinterest.

In vain I explained to women

that I was not out to steal anything,

nor to murder their grandmothers.

They screamed with fear at the sight

of me climbing from a cupboard

or entering through the chimney.

Still, through long days

and nights of violet rain

I made my expeditions:

furtively over the roofs and tiles

I crossed, passing through

those hostile mansions,

and even under the carpet

I fought and fought against forgetting.

I never found what I was looking for.

No one had my horse,

or my loves, or my rose

I lost like so many kisses

on the waist of my beloved.

I was imprisoned, mistreated,

misunderstood and wounded

as a proven evildoer,

and I no longer seek my shadow.

I am as serious as the others,

but miss what I loved:

the leaves of sweetness

that fall one by one

until you are ever motionless,

truly naked.

 V II  

El Que Busco´

De Pablo Neruda

Sali a encontrar lo que perdi´

en las ciudades enemigas:

me cerraban calles y puertas,

me atacaban con fuego y agua,

me disparaban excrementos.

Yo solo queria encontrar

juguetes rotos en los sueños,

un cabillito de cristal

o mi reloj desenterrado.

Nadie queria comprender

mi melancolico destino,

mi desinteres absoluto.

En vano explique a las mujeres

que no queria robar nada,

ni asesinar a sus abuelas.

Deban gritos de miedo al ver

que yo salia de un armario

o entraba por la chimenea.

Sin embargo, por largos dias

y noches de lluvia violeta

mantuve mis expediciones:

furtivamente atravese 

a traves de techos y tejas

aquellas mansiones hostiles

y hasta debajo de la alfombra

luche´y luche´contra el olvido.

Nunca encontre´lo que buscaba.

Nadie tenia mi caballo,

ni mis amores, ni la rosa

que perdi´como tantos besos

en la cintura de mi amada.

Fui encarcelado y malherido,

incomprendido y lesionado

como un malhechor evidente

y ahora no busco mi sombra.

Soy tan serio como los otros,

pero mi falta lo que ame:

el follaje de la dulzura

que se desprende hoja por hoja

hasta que te quedas inmovil,

verdaderamente desnudo.