Explore "Song on the Death and Resurrection of Luis Companys" by Pablo Neruda on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When up the hill where other dead men go on living, like bloody, buried seeds, your shadow grew and grew until it blotted out the air and the shape of the snowy almond shriveled and your step spread like a cold sound that fell from a frozen cathedral, your heart knocked at the most eternal doors: the house of the dead captains of Spain.
Young father fallen with the flower in your breast, with the flower in your breast of Catalonian light, with the carnation drenched in inextinguishable blood, with the living poppy above the broken light, your brow has received the eternity of man among the buried hearts of Spain.