Into the Milling Silence

Therefore, in the stillness, stopping, to perceive,
then, like an immense fluttering, above, 
like dead bees or numbers,
ah, what my pale heart cannot embrace,
in multitudes, in tears scarcely shed,
and human efforts, anguish,
black deeds suddenly discovered
like ice, vast disorder,
oceanic, to me who enter singing,
as if with a sword among the defenseless. 

- from the poem ‘Dead Gallop’, Pablo Neruda, Residence on Earth