Explore "The Man Buried in the Pampa" by Pablo Neruda on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
From tango to tango, if I could circumscribe the dominion, the grasslands, if now asleep the wild wheat rising from my mouth, if on the prairies I heard a thunderclap of horses, a furious tempest of hooves passing over my buried fingers, lipless I'd kiss the seed and bind to it the vestiges of my eyes to see the gallop that my turbulence loved:
O kill me, Vidalita, kill me and let my substance flow like the harsh metal of the guitars.