The Turtle — by Pablo Neruda

By Ernie Jones

The Turtle

by Pablo Neruda
Translated by Ernie Jones

The turtle who
trod
for such time
and saw so much
with
her
ancient
eyes,
the turtle
who ate
olives
from the deepest
ocean,
the turtle who swam
seven centuries
and knew
seven
thousand
springtimes,
the turtle
armored
against
the heat
and the cold,
against
the rays and the waves,
the yellow
and silvered
turtle,
with her grave
amber
smirches
and raptor’s feet,
the turtle
came to lie
here
sleeping.
With age
she began
to harden,
stopped
loving the waves
and went stiff
as a clothes iron.
She closed
those eyes
which so much
sea, sky, time and earth
contested,
and fell asleep
with the other
stones.

 

Photo by pedrik