ODE TO BLUE FLOWER, BY PABLO NERUDA
Walking to the seaon the Prairie-It's November today-,Everything is already borneverything is tall,ripple, fragrance.Grass to grassI will understand the earth,Step by Stepto the crazy lineof the oceanSuddenly a waveof air waves and rippleswild barley:jumpthe flight of a birdfrom my feet, the groundfull of gold threads,of nameless petals,it suddenly shines like green rose,tangles with nettles that revealhis enemy coralslender stems, bramblescrashedinfinite differenceof every vegetable that greets mesometimes with a quickscintillation of thornsor with the press of your perfumeFresh, fine and bitter.Walking to the foamsfrom Pacificclumsily through the low grassof the hidden spring,It seemsthat before the earth is overone hundred meters before the biggest oceaneverything became delirium,germination and singing.The tiny herbsthey were crowned with gold,sand plantsthey gave purple raysand to each little leaf of oblivionA moon or fire address arrived.Near the sea, walking,in November,among the bushes they receivelight, fire and sea saltI found a blue flowerBorn in the very hard meadow.From where, from what backgrounddo you miss blue ray?Your trembling silkundergroundcommunicates with the deep sea?I raised it in my handsand I looked at her as if the sea livedin a single drop,as if in combatof land and watera flower will lifta small bannerof blue fire. of irresistible peace,of indomitable purity.Walking to the seaon the Prairie-It's November today-,Everything is already borneverything is tall,ripple, fragrance.Grass to grassI will understand the earth,Step by Stepto the crazy lineof the oceanSuddenly a waveof air waves and rippleswild barley:jumpthe flight of a birdfrom my feet, the groundfull of gold threads,of nameless petals,it suddenly shines like green rose,tangles with nettles that revealhis enemy coralslender stems, bramblescrashedinfinite differenceof every vegetable that greets mesometimes with a quickscintillation of thornsor with the press of your perfumeFresh, fine and bitter.Walking to the foamsfrom Pacificclumsily through the low grassof the hidden spring,It seemsthat before the earth is overone hundred meters before the biggest oceaneverything became delirium,germination and singing.The tiny herbsthey were crowned with gold,sand plantsthey gave purple raysand to each little leaf of oblivionA moon or fire address arrived.Near the sea, walking,in November,among the bushes they receivelight, fire and sea saltI found a blue flowerBorn in the very hard meadow.From where, from what backgrounddo you miss blue ray?Your trembling silkundergroundcommunicates with the deep sea?I raised it in my handsand I looked at her as if the sea livedin a single drop,as if in combatof land and watera flower will lifta small bannerof blue fire. of irresistible peace,of indomitable purity.
ODE TO BLUE FLOWER,
BY PABLO NERUDA
