From the rainbow-arch of the battlements, his long tongue like a lance sank down in the green leaves, and a swarm of ants, monks with feet chanting, crawled off into the jungle, the guanaco, thin as oxygen in the wide peaks of cloud, went along, wearing his shoes of gold, while the llama opened his honest eyes on the breakable neatness of a world full of dew.

The monkeys braided a s.e.xual thread that went on and on along the sh.o.r.es of the dawn, demolishing walls of pollen and startling the b.u.t.terflies of Muzo into flying violets.

It was the night of the alligators, the pure night, crawling with snouts emerging from ooze, and out of the sleepy marshes the confused noise of scaly plates returned to the ground where they began.

The jaguar brushed the leaves with a luminous absence, the puma runs through the branches like a forest fire, while the jungle's drunken eyes burn from inside him.

The badgers scratch the river's feet, scenting the nest whose throbbing delicacy they attack with red teeth.

And deep in the huge waters the enormous anaconda lies like the circle around the earth, covered with ceremonies of mud, devouring, religious.

PART I describes South America before the Europeans arrived: the plants and trees, birds, rivers, and minerals, and the Aztec priests coming down the temple stairs looking like "brilliant pheasants." There are eleven poems in this section; we have chosen the second poem, about the animals.

Translated by James Wright

ALTURAS DE MACCHU PICCHU, III.

El ser como el maz se desgranaba en el inacabable granero de los hechos perdidos, de los acontecimientos miserables, del uno al siete, al ocho, y no una muerte, sino muchas muertes llegaba a cada uno: cada da una muerte pequena, polvo, gusano, lmpara que se apaga en el lodo del suburbio, una pequena muerte de alas gruesas entraba en cada hombre como una corta lanza y era el hombre asediado del pan o del cuchillo, el ganadero: el hijo de los puertos, o el capitn oscuro del arado, o el roedor de las calles espesas: todos desfallecieron esperando su muerte, su corta muerte diaria: y su quebranto aciago de cada da era como una copa negra que beban temblando.

PART II, called The Heights of Macchu Picchu is made up of twelve1 poems suggested by a visit Neruda made in 1943 to the old ruins of Macchu Picchu, high in the Andes.

THE HEIGHTS OF MACCHU PICCHU, III.

The human soul was threshed out like maize in the endless granary of defeated actions, of mean things that happened, to the very edge of endurance, and beyond, and not only death, but many deaths, came to each one: each day a tiny death, dust, worm, a light flicked off in the mud at the city's edge, a tiny death with coa.r.s.e wings pierced into each man like a short lance and the man was besieged by the bread or by the knife, the cattle-dealer: the child of sea-harbors, or the dark captain of the plough, or the rag-picker of snarled streets: everybody lost heart, anxiously waiting for death, the short death of every day: and the grinding bad luck of every day was like a black cup that they drank, with their hands shaking.

Translated by James Wright

LA CABEZA EN EL PALO.

Balboa, muerte y garra llevaste a los rincones de la dulce tierra central, y entre los perros cazadores, el tuyo era tu alma: Leoncico de belfo sangriento recogi al esclavo que hua, hundi colmillos espanoles en las gargantas palpitantes, y de las unas de los perros sala la carne al martirio y la alhaja caa en la bolsa.

Maldito sean perro y hombre, el aullido infame en la selva original, el acechante paso del hierro y del bandido.

Maldita sea la espinosa corona de la zarza agreste que no salt como un erizo a defender la cuna invadida.

Pero entre los capitanes sanguinarios se alz en la sombra la justicia de los punales, la acerba rama de la envidia.

Y al regreso estaba en medio de tu camino el apellido de Pedrarias como una soga.

Te juzgaron entre ladridos de perros matadores de indios.

Ahora que mueres, oyes el silencio puro, partido por tus lebreles azuzados?

Ahora que mueres en las manos de los torvos adelantados, sientes el aroma dorado del dulce reino destruido?

Cuando cortaron la cabeza de Balboa, qued ensartada en un palo. Sus ojos muertos descompusieron su relmpago y descendieron por la lanza en un gotern de inmundicia que desapareci en la tierra.

THE HEAD ON THE POLE.

Balboa, you brought death and claws everywhere into the sweet land of Central America, and among those hunting dogs your dog was your soul: with his bloodstained jowls Lioncub picked up the slave escaping, sank his Spanish teeth into the panting throats; pieces of flesh slipped from the dogs' jaws into martyrdom and the jewel fell in the pocket.

A curse on dog and man, the horrible howl in the unbroken forest, and the stealthy walk of the iron and the bandit.

And a curse on the spiny crown of the wild thornbush that did not leap like a hedgehog to protect the invaded cradle.

But the justice of knives, the bitter branch of envy, rose in the darkness among the b.l.o.o.d.y captains.

And when you got back, the man named Pedrarias stood in your way like a rope.

PART III turns to the European discoverers of South America, and the conquistadors. One poem describes Columbus' first arrival in 1493, and his later arrival at Mexico in 1519. Cortez, Balboa, and Ximenez de Quesada have their own poems; Neruda describes the death of Atahualpa, and the careers of Valdivia and Magellan. The picture he gives of these men is often very different from the images of them in American history books. There are thirty-three poems. We have translated three, the poems on the fall and death of Balboa, on the death of Atahualpa, and on Almagro, the discoverer of Chile.

They tried you surrounded by the barkings of dogs that killed Indians.

Now you are dying, do you hear the pure silence, broken by your excited dogs?

Now you are dying in the hands of the stern authorities, do you sense the precious aroma of the sweet kingdom smashed forever?

When they cut off Balboa's head, it was stuck up on a pole. His dead eyes let their lightning rot and descended along the pole as a large drop of filth which disappeared into the earth.

Translated by Robert Bly

LAS AGONAS.

En Caj amarca empez la agona.

El joven Atahualpa, estambre azul, rbol insigne, escuch al viento traer rumor de acero.

Era un confuso brillo y temblor desde la costa, un galope increble -piafar y podero- de hierro y hierro entre la hierba.

Llegaron los adelantados.

El Inca sali de la msica rodeado por los senores.

Las visitas de otro planeta, sudadas y barbudas, iban a hacer la reverencia.

El capelln Valverde, corazn traidor, chacal podrido, adelanta un extrano objeto, un trozo de cesto, un fruto tal vez de aquel planeta de donde vienen los caballos.

Atahualpa lo toma. No conoce de que se trata: no brilla, no suena, y lo deja caer sonriendo.

"Muerte, venganza, matad, que os absuelvo", grita el chacal de la cruz asesina.

El trueno acude hacia los bandoleros.

Nuestra sangre en su cuna es derramada.

Los prncipes rodean como un coro al Inca, en la hora agonizante.

Diez mil peruanos caen bajo cruces y espadas, la sangre moja las vestiduras de Atahualpa.

Pizarro, el cerdo cruel de Extremadura hace amarrar los delicados brazos del Inca. La noche ha descendido sobre el Per como una brasa negra.

ANGUISH OF DEATH.

In Cajamarca, the anguish of death began.

The youthful Atahualpa, sky-blue stamen, ill.u.s.trious tree, listened to the wind carry the faint murmur of steel.

There was a confused light, an earth-tremor from the coast, an unbelievable galloping- rearing and power- from iron and iron, among the weeds.

The governors were arriving.

The Inca came out to the music surrounded by his n.o.bles.

The visitors from another planet, sweaty and bearded, go to do reverence.

The chaplain, Valverde, treacherous heart, rotten jackal, brings forward a strange object, a piece of a basket, a fruit, perhaps from the same planet from which the horses come.

Atahualpa takes it. He does not know what it is made of ; it doesn't shine, it makes no noise, and he lets it fall, smiling.

"Death ; vengeance, kill, I will absolve you,"

the jackal of the murderous cross cries out.

Thunder draws near the robbers.

Our blood is shed in its cradle.

The young princes gather like a chorus around the Inca, in the hour of the anguish of death.

Ten thousand Peruvians fell under crosses and swords, the blood moistened the robes of Atahualpa.

Pizarro, the cruel hog from western Spain, had the slender arms of the Inca tied up. Night has now come down over Peru like a live coal that is black.

Translated by James Wright

DESCUBRIDORES DE CHILE.

Del Norte trajo Almagro su arrugada centella.

Y sobre el territorio, entre explosin y ocaso, se inclin da y noche como sobre una carta.

Sombra de espinas, sombra de cardo y cera, el espanol reunido con su seca figura, mirando las sombras estrategias del suelo.