for Natalia

By the way of the hills of Scotland Or the shores of Wales, your ancestor Rode the waters, sand and stone to land At Chile. He gave you, your unusual eyes.

His forgotten tongue you had to relearn In America, where I still labor to perfect Its speaking. It’s the only language I can write to you, myself in.

A person of class, my friend calls you. You now in a plane high above Texas, Across whose borders lies your country, In whose streets disbelief greets you.

Habla Espanol Senorita! These exclamations point to the secrets of distant origins, we are all that Even if we are lost. You are soon headed to India, it informs me still and my reticence around you.

How your eyes hide green coral! Such words Perhaps you may read in glances in the dusty streets Of Poona, I couldn’t say them. The only words left To say then are perhaps these by Neruda:

“Tu presencia es ajena, extraña a mí como una cosa. Pienso, camino largamente, mi vida antes de ti. Mi vida antes de nadie, mi áspera vida. El grito frente al mar, entre las piedras, corriendo libre, loco, en el vaho del mar. La furia triste, el grito, la soledad del mar. Desbocado, violento, estirado hacia el cielo.

Tú, mujer, qué eras allí, qué raya, qué varilla de ese abanico inmenso? Estabas lejos como ahora. Incendio en el bosque! Arde en cruces azules. Arde, arde, llamea, chispea en árboles de luz.”

Gracias! Adios!

English Translation

"Your presence is foreign, as strange to me as a thing. I think, I explore great tracts of my life before you. My life before anyone, my harsh life. The shout facing the sea, among the rocks, running free, mad, in the sea-spray. The sad rage, the shout, the solitude of the sea. Headlong, violent, stretched towards the sky.

You, woman, what were you there, what ray, what vane of that immense fan? You were as far as you are now. Fire in the forest! Burn in blue crosses. Burn, burn, flame up, sparkle in trees of light."