paying me the attention I need,
I buried him in the garden
with no exaggerations:
with a look that reserved for me alone
for any human being,
next to a rusted old machine.
my wandering dog, sniffing away
but now hes gone with his shaggy coat,
His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
face to face with the oceans spray.
So now hes gone and I buried him,
and asking nothing.
full of the voltage of the seas movement:
Pablo Neruda
he never rubbed up against my knee
in any promised heaven in the sky
withholding its authority,
with his golden tail held high,
as only dogs know how to be happy
I believe in
九-九-藏-书-网 a heaven Ill never enter.
A Dog Has Died
Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
Joyful, joyful, joyful,
the attention required
with no more intimacy than was called for,
always near me, never troubling me,
Ai, Ill not speak of sadness here on earth,
like other dogs obsessed with sex.
Translate99lｉｂ•ｎｅtd, from the Spanish, by Alfred Yankauer
of their shameless spirit.
where my dog waits for my arrival
as we walked together on the shores of the sea
was the friendship of a star, aloof,
and my hairy dog was jumping about
and I, the materialist, who never believed
There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
all his sweet a九九藏书nd shaggy life,
filling me full of his hair or his mange,
My dog has died.
Some day Ill join him right there,
in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
and thats all there is to it.
No, my dog used to gaze at me,
he never climbed all over my clothes
his bad manners and his cold nose,
that, being a dog, he was wasting time,
where the winteri藏书网ng birds filled the sky
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.
who was never servile.
but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
of having lost a companion
with only the autonomy
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
hed keep on gazing at me
to make a vain person like me understand
and we dont now and never did lie to each other.