Hey, folks, good news. I just got permission to post Pablo Neruda's Sonnet XXVII for the purpose of discussion here.
Dear Mr. Moss,
As long as Neruda's sonnet is used only in the forum as part of the discussion on his poetry and is not published we have no objection to your proposal. We would appreciate it if you would acknowledge our book, the translator, and the University of Texas Press as publisher.
Best wishes,
Peggy L. Gough
Rights & Permissions Assistant
University of Texas Press
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The sonnet is from "100 Love Sonnets: Cien Sonetos de Amor" translated by Stephen Tapscott and published by the University of Texas Press, copyright 1986.
XXVII
Naked, you are simple as one of your hands,
smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round:
you have moon-lines, apple-pathways:
naked, you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.
Naked, you are blue as a night in Cuba;
you have vines and stars in your hair;
naked, you are spacious and yellow
as summer in a golden church.
Naked, you are tiny as one of your nails--
curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born
and you withdraw to the underground world,
as if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores:
your clear light dims, gets dressed--drops its leaves--
and becomes a naked hand again.
