Explore "The Men and the Islands" by Pablo Neruda on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The oceanic men awakened, waters sang in the islands, from stone to green stone: textile maidens crossed the enclosure in which the entwined fire and rain procreated diadems and drums.
The Melanesian moon was a hard madrepore, sulfurous flowers came from the ocean, the earth's daughters trembled like waves in the nuptial wind of the palms and harpoons penetrated flesh in pursuit of the foam's lives.
Canoes rocked on the deserted day, from the islands like specks of pollen to the metallic mass of nocturnal America: diminutive unnamed stars, perfumed like secret fountains, brimming with feathers and coral, when oceanic eyes discovered the dark heights of the copper coast, the steep tower of snow, and the men of clay saw the wet banners and the remote marine solitude's atmospheric children dance, the lost branch of orange blossoms arrived, the wind of oceanic magnolias came up, the sweetness of the blue spur on hips, the kiss of the metal-free islands, pure as wild honey, sonorous as sheets from the sky.