Keeping Quiet

By Pablo Neruda

 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 a 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 not look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,

wars with gas, wars with fire,

victories 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.

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 in winter

and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve

and you keep quiet and I will go.

We’ve been wintering for many weeks now. We’ve been adapting to living in a pandemic for many months. And many of us feel ready-already for a shift – perhaps we crave more sunlight and longer days, perhaps we desire greater certainty and peace. Feeling increasing amounts of restlessness myself, I appreciate Pablo Neruda’s gentle call for patience.

In appreciation,

Ashley

The Poetry of Pablo Neruda offers a comprehensive collection of Neruda’s work. You may also want to check out Quiet – an ongoing silent meditation series dedicated to accessing the healing and replenishing benefits of tranquility and to connect with natural wisdom.