They will continue wandering,
these things of steel among the stars,
and worn out men will still go up
to brutalise the placid moon.
There, they will found their pharmacies.
In this time of the swollen grape,
the wine begins to come to life
between the sea and the mountain ranges.
In Chile now, cherries are dancing,
the dark, secretive girls are singing,
and in guitars, water is shining.
The sun is touching every door
and making wonder of the wheat.
The first wine is pink in colour,
is sweet with the sweetness of a child,
the second wine is able-bodied,
strong like the voice of a sailor,
the third wine is a topaz, is
a poppy and a fire in one.
My house has both the sea and the earth,
my woman has great eyes
the colour of wild hazelnut,
when night comes down , the sea
puts on a dress of white and green,
and later the moon in the spindrift foam
dreams like a sea-green girl.
I have no wish to change my planet.
About this poem
This poem, representing Chile, is taken from Inside Out: Selected Poetry & Translations, introduction by Douglas Dunn (Edinburgh: Polygon, 2008)
Translated by Alastair Reid, the poem is part of The Written World – our collaboration with BBC radio to broadcast a poem from every single nation competing in London 2012.