[LXXXVII]
Las tres aves del mar, tres rayos, tres tijeras
The three sea birds, three flashes, three scissors
cruzaron por el cielo frío hacia Antofagasta,
crossed over the cold sky towards Antofagasta,
por eso quedó el aire tembloroso,
that’s why the air was set to shaking,
todo tembló como bandera herida.
everything trembled like a wounded flag.
Soledad, dame el signo de tu incesante origen,
Solitude, give me the sign from your unceasing origin,
el apenas camino de los pájaros crueles,
the barely highway of those cruel birds,
y la palpitación que sin duda precede
and the palpitation that is sure to come before
a la miel, a la música, al mar, al nacimiento.
the honey, the music, the sea, the birth.
(Soledad sostenida por un constante rostro
(Solitude sustained by an unfailing visage
como una grave flor sin cesar extendida
like a sombre flower stretched unendingly
hasta abarcar la pura muchedumbre del cielo.)
to span the sheer muchness crowding the sky.)
Volaban alas frías del mar, del Archipiélago,
Cold wings of ocean flew, from Archipelago,
hacia la arena del Noroeste de Chile.
towards the sands of Northwest Chile.
Y la noche cerró su celeste cerrojo.
And night threw the bolt on its celestial lock.
Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada. Cien sonetos de amor
1924, Pablo Neruda y Herederos de Pablo Neruda
1994, Random House Mondadori
Cuarta edición en U.S.A: febrero 2004
[English translation by JMN.]
(c) 2020 JMN. All rights reserved
EthicalDative 
‘Bad Boy’ Harpsichordist
Scott Ross moved to France when he was 12 years old. He studied harpsichord and organ at the Paris and Nice Conservatories, and in 1971 won the Bruges International Competition, in Belgium.
Five years before dying of AIDS in 1982 at age 38, Ross committed himself to recording the complete keyboard works of Scarlatti — 555 sonatas.
The full set had never before been recorded, let alone by a single artist, let alone on an instrument like that which its composer would have known. Vast swaths were hardly played at all.
“I have a quality — a vice, perhaps,” he says. “It’s called perseverance, which isn’t the same thing as patience. Patience I don’t possess, but perseverance? You’re talking to someone who recorded 555 Scarlatti sonatas. Well, that didn’t require any patience. I have no patience for anything whatsoever.”
In the video cited in this article, Ross quietly tutors a student, speaking French, at the keyboard. The toll his affliction has taken is etched in his gaunt face, yet with eyes and voice he conveys a masterful authority, serenity, empathy, teacherly tenderness — and yes, patience — that are indescribably moving.
Ross’s brief admonishment to his pupil, as the young man plays, crystallizes the experience: “Don’t look at me, look at the keyboard.”
(“He Was a ‘Bad Boy’ Harpsichordist, and the Best of HIs Age,” Zachary Woolfe, NYTimes, 2-26-21)
(c) 2021 JMN