Canto Y Confesion al Pueblo Chileno que no Merezco

Chilenos gente y tribu de poetas

vosotros palabras bellas desde aqa

hasta alla seran incapaz y sin arte,

las mias en comparacion. Arte

ya no vive como se pensaba antes

que vivia.  Poetas ya no entregan

su todo vivir a defender a la Belleza.

Somos feos y aun inocentes. Una Fiera

constante de Presencia confusa

no cansa en andar de Noche y Dia

que parece si Fuimos el Jefe de su

Nueve Once. Y asi fue: de la Verdad

nos hicimos los desconocidos. Ahora,
Yo no se si fui Victima u Oprimidor.

Chilean Miners and Their Poets True

Los Mineros pulled from the Platonic Cave,

cast parting gazes at their shadow-world

inside the Earth, the same that generates

precious metals, oil, and rich jewels.

Their old Poet who collected Shells looks

on, Patron Saint Neruda of Miners,

factory workers, lovers; he composed books

by their Light as did Jara, Allende,

Violeta, Nicanor, and among

them Sad Vallejo. Hurry, rush, time comes

quickly. A second Umbilicus sends

its everlasting twine to pull them from

their dungeon--the sunken men emerge—

as an Omen of a new resurgence.