by Pablo Neruda （Translated by William O'Daly）

    Today is that day， the day that carried

    a desperate light that since has died.

    Don't let the squatters know：

    let's keep it all between us，

    day， between your bell

    and my secret.

    Today is dead winter in the forgotten land

    that comes to visit me， with a cross on the map

    and a volcano in the snow， to return to me，

    to return again the water

    fallen on the roof of my childhood.

    Today when the sun began with its shafts¹

    to tell the story， so clear， so old，

    the slanting² rain fell like a sword，

    the rain my hard heart welcomes.

    You， my love， still asleep in August，

    my queen， my woman， my vastness， my geography

    kiss of mud， the carbon-coated zither，

    you， vestment of my persistent³ song，

    today you are reborn again and with the sky's

    black water confuse me and compel me：

    I must renew my bones in your kingdom，

    I must still uncloud my earthly duties.

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