Pablo Neruda -El amor del soldado-

El amor del soldado

En plena guerra te llevó la vida
a ser el amor del soldado.

Con tu pobre vestido de seda,
tus uñas de piedra falsa
te tocó caminar por el fuego.

Ven acá, vagabunda,
ven a beber sobre mi pecho
rojo rocío.

No querías saber dónde andabas,
eras la compañera de baile,
no tenías partido ni patria.

Y ahora a mi lado caminando
ves que conmigo va la vida
y que detrás está la muerte.

Ya no puedes volver a bailar
con tu traje de seda en la sala.
Te vas a romper los zapatos,
pero vas a crecer en la marcha.

Tienes que andar sobre las espinas
dejando gotitas de sangre.

Bésame de nuevo, querida.

Limpia ese fusil, camarada.


The soldier's love

In the midst of war life led you
to be the soldier's love.

With your poor silk dress,
your costume jewelry nails,
you were chosen to walk through the fire.

Come here, vagabond,
come and drink on my breast
red dew.

You didn't want to know where you were going,
you were the dancing partner,
you had no Party, no country.

And now walking at my side
you see that life goes with me
and that behind us is death.

Now you can't dance any more
with your silk dress in the ballroom.

You'll wear out your shoes,
but you'll grow on the march.

You have to walk on thorns
leaving little drops of blood.

Kiss me again, beloved.

Clean that gun, comrade.