كم انت عظيم يا نيرودا
WE ARE MANY
Of the many men whom I am, whom we are
I cannot settle on a single one
They are lost to me under the cover of clothing
They have departed for another city
* * *
When everything seems to be set
,to show me off as a man of intelligence
the fool I keep concealed on my person
.takes over my talk and occupies my mouth
* * *
On other occasions, I am dozing
, in the midstof people of some distinction
,and when I summon my courageous self
a coward completely unknown to me
swaddles my poor skeleton
.in a thousand tiny reservations
* * *
,When a stately home bursts into flames
instead of the fireman I summon
.an arsonist bursts on the scene,and he is I
. There is nothing I can do
?What must I do to distinguish myself
?How can I put myself together
* * *
All the books I read
,lionize dazzling hero figures
.brimming with self-assurance
:I die with envy of them
and, in films where bullets fly on the wind
,I am left in envy of the cowboys
.left admiring even the horses
* * *
,But when I call upon my DASHING BEING
,out comes the same OLD LAZY SELF
,and so I never know just WHO I AM
,nor how many I am
. nor WHO WE WILL BE BEING
* * *
I would like to be able to touch a bell
,and call up my real self, the truly me
,because if I really need my proper self
.I must not allow myself to disappear
* * *
;While I am writing, I am far away
.and when I come back, I have already left
I should like to see if the same thing happens
,to other people as it does to me
,to see if as many people are as I am
.and if they seem the same way to themselves
* * *
When this problem has been thoroughly explored
I am going to school myself so well in things
,that, when I try to explain my problems
.I shall speak, not of self, but of geography
Pablo Neruda
كم احبك ايها المجرم
وكم اكرهك
لأنك دونت حواري الليلي مع نفسي على وسادتي
أو على خشبة البار عندما أصمت وانزوي
كيف عرفت؟
