Keeping Quiet

 

Now we will count to twelve and we will all keep still.
For once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language,
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

 

It would be an exotic moment,
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together,
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea,
would not harm whales,
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victory with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity:
life is what it is about
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness,
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973), a Latin
American Poet, 1971 Nobel Prize Award for Literary
(www.earthhour.net)