A callarse
por Pablo Neruda
Ahora contaremos doce
y nos quedamos todos quietos.
Por una vez sobre la tierra
no hablemos en ningun idioma,
por un segundo detengamonos,
no movamos tanto los brazos.
Seria un minuto fragante,
sin prisa, sin locomotoras,
todos estariamos juntos
en una inquietud instantanea.
Los pescadores del mar frio
no harian danio a las ballenas
y el trabajador de la sal
miraria sus manos rotas.
Los que preparan guerras verdes,
guerras de gas, guerras de fuego,
victorias sin sobrevivientes,
se pondrian un traje puro
y andarian con sus hermanos
por la sombra, sin hacer nada.
No se confunda lo que quiero
con la inaccion definitiva:
la vida es solo lo que se hace,
no quiero nada con la muerte.
Si no pudimos ser unanimes
moviendo tanto nuestras vidas,
tal vez no hacer nada una vez,
tal vez un gran silencio pueda
interrumpir esta tristeza,
este no entendernos jamas
y amenazarnos con la muerte,
tal vez la tierra nos ensenie
cuando todo parece muerto
y luego todo estaba vivo.
Ahora contare hasta doce
y tu te callas y me voy.
Keeping Quiet
by Pablo Neruda
tr. Robert Saltzman
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 any language,
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be a scented 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 look at his cracked hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victory with no survivors,
would 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 nothing to do with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
could interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything appears dead
and later is revealed to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
Discussion about this post
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I've always loved this poem. ❤️
I've always been intrigued by "Now I’ll count up to twelve and you keep quiet and I will go." To me, deep profundity, mystery and emotional resonance emanate from these 14 words. My mind wonders:
Why 12 and not 10? Perhaps 12 evokes the completion of cycles (12 months, 12 hours of day and night, 12 signs of Zodiac) or order/wisdom/justice (12 disciples, 12 imams, 12-person juries, 12 tablets of Roman Law).
Why does he go? Perhaps by departing, he empowers others to engage with the silence and stillness independently, no longer relying on his guidance. Or, perhaps a metaphor for death and impermanence of life, or an act of humility and (Buddhist) detachment.
To me, it encapsulates the meaning and feeling of the poem. It conjures non-attachment, impermanence, mortality, cyclicality/regeneration, the teacher/guide fulfilling his/her mission and moving on after contributing to the student's embrace of stillness and silence, and the realizations which they yield.
Of course, Neruda's 14 words convey much, much more than those I just wrote. And, more concisely and beautifully than those of which I'm capable.
Thank you, Robert, for translating and sharing.