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A sad poem by Pablo Neruda.Men cannot tarnish mermaids with their boorishness, but nor can they love them. Love requires us to be vulnerable. Here are three slightly different translations. The major difference is in the final line. ... swam towards death, to her dawn, or to her dying. I prefer the third version, by Alistair Reid. All
those men were there inside,
All these fellows were there inside when she entered Utterly naked. They'd been drinking and began to spit at her, Recently come from the river, she understood nothing. She was a mermaid who had lost her way, The taunts flowed over her glistening flesh Obscenities drenched her golden breasts. stranger to tears, she did not weep, A stranger to clothes, she did not dress. They pocked her with cigarette ends and with burnt corks And rolled on the tavern floor in raucous laughter She did not speak, since speech was unknown to her Her eyes were the color of far away love Her arms were matching topazes Her lips moved soundlessly in coral light And ultimately she left by that door Hardly had she entered the river than she was cleansed Gleaming once more like a white stone in the rain And without a backward look, she swam once more Swam towards nothingness, swam to her dawn.
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