Night

Vicente Huidobro
Chilean
1893 – 1948

 

You hear the night glide across the snow

The song fell down from the trees
And through the fog sounded voices

I lit my cigar at a glance

Every time I open my lips
I flood the void with clouds

In the harbor
The masts are full of nests.

And the wind
groans in the birds’ wings

THE WAVES ROCK THE DEAD SHIP

Whistling on the shore I
Look at the star that glows between my fingers

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