Keeping Quiet - Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve
 
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,
 
let’s not speak in any language;
 
let’s stop for one second,
 
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
 
without rush, without engines;
 
we would all be together
 
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
 
would not harm whales
 
and the man gathering salt
 
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
 
wars with gas, wars with fire,
 
victories with no survivors,
 
would put on clean clothes
 
and walk about with their brothers
 
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
 
with total inactivity.
 
Life is what it is about;
 
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
 
about keeping our lives moving,
 
and for once could do nothing,
 
perhaps a huge silence
 
might interrupt this sadness
 
of never understanding ourselves
 
and of threatening ourselves with death.
 
Perhaps the earth can teach us
 
as when everything seems dead
 
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
 
and you keep quiet and I will go.