Standard Oil Co by Pablo Neruda

When the drill bored down toward the stony fissures and plunged its implacable intestine into the subterranean estates, and dead years, eyes of the ages, imprisoned plants' roots and scaly systems became strata of water, fire shot up through the tubes transformed into cold liquid, in the customs house of the heights, issuing from its world of sinister depth, it encountered a pale engineer and a title deed.

However entangled the petroleum's arteries may be, however the layers may change their silent site and move their sovereignty amid the earth's bowels, when the fountain gushes its paraffin foliage,