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Pablo Neruda - Lone Gentleman
Work rating: Low

The gay young men and the love-sick girls, 
and the abandoned widows suffering in sleepless delirium, 
and the young pregnant wives of thirty hours, 
and the raucous cats that cruise my garden in the shadows, 
like a necklace of pulsating oysters of sex 
surround my lonely residence, 
like enemies lined up against my soul, 
like conspirators in bedroom clothes 
who exchange long deep kisses to order. 
  
The radiant summer leads to lovers 
in predictable melancholic regiments, 
made of fat and skinny, sad and happy pairings: 
under the elegant coconut palms, near the ocean and the moon, 
goes an endless movement of trousers and dresses, 
a whisper of silk stockings being caressed, 
and womens breasts that sparkle like eyes. 
  
The little employee, after it all, 
after the weeks boredom, and novels read by night in bed, 
has definitively seduced the girl next door, 
and carried her away to a run-down movie house 
where the heroes are studs or princes mad with passion, 
and strokes her legs covered with soft down 
with his moist and ardent hands that smell of cigarettes. 
  
The seducers afternoons and married peoples nights 
come together like the sheets and bury me, 
and the hours after lunch when the young male students 
and the young girl students, and the priests, masturbate, 
and the creatures fornicate outright, 
and the bees smell of blood, and the flies madly buzz, 
and boy and girl cousins play oddly together, 
and doctors stare in fury at the young patients husband, 
and the morning hours in which the professor, as if to pass the time, 
performs his marriage duties, and breakfasts, 
and moreover, the adulterers, who love each other truly 
on beds as high and deep as ocean liners: 
finally, eternally surrounding me 
is a gigantic forest breathing and tangled 
with gigantic flowers like mouths with teeth 
and black roots in the shape of hooves and shoes.
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