Keeping Quiet

Keeping Quiet

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 an exotic moment,

without rush, without engines,

we would all be together

in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea

would not harm whale

sand the man gathering salt

would look at his hurt 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 no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded

about keeping our lives moving,

and for once could do nothing

perhaps a huge silence

might interrupt this sadness,

of never understanding ourselves

and of threatening ourselves with death,

perhaps the earth can teach us

as when everything seems dead

and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count to twelve

and you keep quiet and I will go.

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973), a LatinAmerican Poet, 1971 Nobel PrizeAward for Literary
Based on Poem entitled A callarse (1958)translated to English by Alastair Reid (1972)