Dikt; The Old Women Of The Ocean av Pablo Neruda

To the solemn sea the old women come 
With their shawls knotted around their necks 
With their fragile feet cracking. 

They sit down alone on the shore 
Without moving their eyes or their hands 
Without changing the clouds or the silence. 

The obscene sea breaks and claws 
Rushes downhill trumpeting 
Shakes its bull's beard. 

The gentle old ladies seated 
As if in a transparent boat 
They look at the terrorist waves. 

Where will they go and where have they been? 
They come from every corner 
They come from our own lives. 

Now they have the ocean 
The cold and burning emptiness 
The solitude full of flames. 

They come from all the pasts 
From houses which were fragrant 
From burnt-up evenings. 

They look, or don't look, at the sea 
With their walking sticks they draw signs in the sand 
And the sea erases their calligraphy. 

The old women get up and go away 
With their fragile bird feet 
While the waves flood in 
Traveling naked in the wind. 


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