Explore "In Memory of Manuel and Benjamín" by Pablo Neruda on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
At the same time, two lives of my career, two from my quarry, two of my labors, died within hours of each other: one shrouded in Santiago, the other in Tacna: two singular beings who have something in common now, at long last, because they have died.
The first one was somber and kingly, harsh, with his rugged character, and seldom spoke a word: a hard laborer he kept hands that were always ready to shape the stone, to hammer the hot metal.