PABLO NERUDA BEAUTIFUL MEMORY OF HIS GREAT LITERARY WORK.

PABLO NERUDA BEAUTIFUL MEMORY OF HIS GREAT LITERARY WORK

Ode to the hummingbird
To the hummingbird,
steering wheel
spark of water,
incandescent drop
of fire  

American,
summary
switched on
from the jungle,
rainbow
precision
light blue:
to the
hummingbird
an arch,
a
thread
of gold,
A bonfire
green!
Oh
minimum
flash of lightning
living,
when
it holds
in the air
you
structure
of pollen,
feather
or grill,
I ask you,
what thing are you
where             

do you originate
Maybe in the blind age
of the flood,
in the mud
of fertility,
when
the Rose
froze in an anthracite fist
each one in
his secret
Gallery,
maybe then
of the reptile
injured
rolled a fragment,
an atom
of gold,
the last
cosmic scale, a
drop
of the ground fire
and flew
suspending your beauty,
your iridescent
and quick sapphire.
Do you sleep

in a nut,
fit in one
tiny corolla,
arrow,
plan,
shield,
vibration
of honey, pollen ray,
you are
so brave
that the hawk
with his black feathers
It doesn't scare you:
you tour
like light in the light,
air in the air,
and you enter
flying
in the wet case
of a trembling flower
without fear
That your wedding honey beheads you.
From scarlet to sprinkled gold,
to the yellow that burns,
to the weird
Cinderella Emerald,

orange and black velvet
of your iridescent corset,
until the drawing
how
amber thorn
it starts you
little supreme being,
2. 3
you are a miracle
and you burn
since
Hot california
until the whistle
of the bitter wind of Patagonia.
Sun seed
you are,
fire
feathered
lower case
flag
flying,
Petal of the peoples who were silent,
syllable
of the buried blood,
plume
of the old
heart
submerged.
From The Flight: Hummingbirds fly / touching emeralds lit.
Picaflor I

The fire escaped and was taken
for a golden movement
that kept him suspended,
fleeting, motionless, trembling:
erectile vibration, metal:
Petal of the meteors.
He kept flying without flying
concentrating the tiny sun
by honey helicopter,
in syllable of the emerald
that from flower to flower spreads
The identity of the rainbow.
In the sun shakes the litmus
the sumptuous sumptuous silk
of the two invisible wings
and the tiniest lightning
burns in its pure incandescence,
static and dizzying.
The Picaflor II
The seven-light hummingbird,
the seven flower rash,
look for a thimble where to live:
their loves are miserable
without a house where to go
Far from the world and the flowers.
Your love is illegal, sir,
Come back another day and at another time:
the hummingbird must marry
To live with picaflora:
I do not rent this thimble
For this illegal traffic.

The hummingbird finally left
with his loves to the garden
and there came a fierce cat
to devour them both:
the seven flower rash,
the colorful hummingbird:
ate them the infernal cat
But his death was legal.


 IMPERDIBLE HERMOSISIMO. SHARE IT PAUL NERUDA ... ODE TO PJCAFLOR