by Pablo Neruda. (trans. Alastair Reid.)
And 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, [...]
Translated from the Spanish by Christopher Logue Drunk as drunk on turpentine From your open kisses, Your wet body wedged Between my wet body and the strake Of our boat that is made of flowers, Feasted, we guide it – our fingers Like tallows adorned with yellow metal – Over the sky’s hot rim, [...]