AUTUMN BUTTERFLY- POEM PABLO NERUDA

 

AUTUMN BUTTERFLY- 

POEM PABLO NERUDA

The butterfly flutters

and it burns—with the sun—sometimes.

Flying spot and flare,

now it stands still

on a leaf that rocks it.

They told me: —You have nothing.

You are not sick. Seem to you.

I didn't say anything either.

And the harvest time passed.

Today a hand of sorrow

fills the horizon with autumn.

And until my soul leaves fall.

They told me: —You have nothing.

You are not sick. Seem to you.

It was time for the ears of wheat.

The sun now

convalesce

Everything is going in life, friends.

Leave or perish.

The hand that induces you is gone.

Leave or perish.

The rose you untie is gone.

Also the mouth that kiss you.

The water, the shadow and the cup.

Leave or perish.

It happened when the spikes.

The sun, now, convalesces.

His warm tongue surrounds me.

She also tells me: —Do you think so?

The butterfly flutters,

flutters,

and disappears.