Its Truths Scrambled
Feliz cumpleaños a mi!
I am not 32 but Neruda wrote 100 sonnets for his beloved Matilde and named this one XXXII. Do you have someone in your life that creates your order, that is your shimmering bee. I must love disorder if my desk looks like this! … pero mi encanta those with the gift to take a twig, place it on a piece of accordian-folded, origami-esque paper and effortlessly create art.
Wine that prefers to continue yesterday. Que quiere decir eso?
Besos,
Elisabet
XXXII
Pablo Neruda
The house this morning — with its truths
scrambled, blankets and feathers, the start of the day
already in flux — drifts like a poor little boat
between its horizon of order and of sleep.
Objects want only to drag themselves along:
vestiges, entropic followers, cold legaices.
Papers hide their shriveled vowels;
the wine in the bottle prefers to continue yesterday.
But you — The One Who Puts Things in Order — you shimmer
through like a bee, probing spaces lost to the darkness:
conquering light, you with your white energy.
So you contruct a new clarity here,
and objects obey, following the wind of life:
an Order establishes its bread, its dove.
(y el orden establece su pan y su paloma.)
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