School ，Childhood and Poetry
One time, investigating in the backyard of our house in Temuco the tiny objects and minuscule beings of my world, I came upon a hole in one of the boards of the fence. I looked through the hole and saw a landscape like that behind our house, uncared for, and wild. I moved back a few steps, because I sensed vaguely that something was about to happen. All of a sudden a hand appeared, a tiny hand of a boy about my own age. By the time I came close again, the hand was gone, and in its place there was a marvelous white sheep.
The sheep's wool was faded. Its wheels had escaped. All of this only made it more authentic. I had never seen such a wonderful sheep. I looked back through the hole but the boy had disappeared. I went into the house and brought out a treasure of my own: a pinecone, opened, full of odor and resin, which I adored. I set it down in the same spot and went off with the sheep.
I never saw either the hand or the boy again. And I have never again seen a sheep like that either. The toy I lost finally in a fire.
I have been a lucky man. To feel the intimacy of brothers is a marvelous thing in life. To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life. But to feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know, from those unknown to us, who are watching over our sleep and solitude, over our dangers and our weaknesses, that is something still greater and more beautiful because it widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.
That exchange brought home to me for the first time a precious idea: that all of humanity is somehow together. That experience came to me again much later; this time it stood out strikingly against a background of trouble and persecution.
It won't surprise you then that I attempted to give something resiny, earthlike, and fragrant in exchange for human brotherhood. Just as I once left the pinecone by the fence, I have since left my words on the door of so many people who were unknown to me, people in prison, or hunted, or alone.
That is the great lesson I learned in my childhood, in the backyard of a lonely house. Maybe it was nothing but a game two boys played who didn't know each other and wanted to pass to the other some good things of life. Yet maybe this small and mysterious exchange of gifts remained inside me also, deep and indestructible, giving my poetry light.
学校，童年和诗歌
有一段时间,在我家后院的微小物体和极小西面的生命我的世界,我来到了一个洞的围墙的木板。我从洞里,看到这样的景色,没房子后面,而疯狂的。我搬回了几步,因为我感觉到含糊的那些东西有将要发生的事情。突然,一只手出现细小的手的男孩对自己的年龄。我走近的时候,手了,并且在它的地方有一个奇妙的白绵羊。
羊的羊毛就消失了。其车轮逃走了。所有这一切只会让它更真实。我从未见过如此奇特的羊。我回头穿过这个洞童子却消失了。我进了房子,拿出自己的财富:松果,打开,充满香气和树脂,我最尊敬的人。我把它放在同一个地方,后来和羊。
我从未见过的手或童年。我从未见过一只羊再那样。我失去了最后的玩具在一场火灾的。
我一直是个幸运的男人。感受”的兄弟是一种不可思议的事情在生活中。觉得我们所爱的人的爱是火,把我们的生活。但感觉,来自于那些不为我们所知,从那些不为我们所知,他正在看了我们的睡眠和孤独,我们和我们的弱点,危害更大的,是一件更美丽,因为它扩大了我们全人的边界,并将所有的生灵。
那个交换使我平生第一次宝贵的想法:所有的人类都不知何故结合在一起。那个经验又来了之后,这一次它突出醒目的背景下,对他的麻烦和迫害。
它不会令你感到惊讶的那一刻,我试图把一些类似,芬芳的人类兄弟换。就像我曾经留下了由围墙,松果之后离开我的言语的门上这么多的人,人们还在监狱里,或猎捕、或孤独。
这是最伟大的课我学会了在我的童年,在后院的一幢孤零零的房子。也许这只是一场两个男孩打谁不知道对方,要通过其他一些好事的生活。也许这个小和神秘还交换礼物依然在我里面的,也深刻的,不可,给我的诗歌。
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