Explore "The Earth's Name Is Juan" by Pablo Neruda on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Juan followed upon the liberators working, fishing and fighting, in his carpentry work or in his damp mine.
His hands have plowed the earth and measured the roads.
His bones are everywhere.
But he's alive. He returned from the earth. He was born.
He was born again like an eternal plant.
All the impure night tried to submerge him and today he affirms his indomitable lips in the dawn.
They bound him, and he's now a determined soldier.
They wounded him, and he's still hearty as an apple.
They cut off his hands, and today he pounds with them.
They buried him, and he sings along with us.
Juan, the door and the road are yours.
The earth is yours, people, truth was born with you, with your blood.
They couldn't exterminate you.
Your roots, tree of humanity, tree of eternity, are today defended with steel, are today defended with your own grandeur in the Soviet land, armored against the snaps of the moribund wolf.
People, order was born of suffering.
Your victorious flag was born of order.
Hoist it with all the hands that fell, defend it with all the hands that are joined: and let the unity of your invisible faces advance to the final struggle, to the star.