Owl feather

I have been reading Odes to Common Things by Pablo Neruda, translated by Ken Krabbenhoft. Here's a bit, in Spanish and then in English:

Oda a la guitarra

. . . Y la mujer que toca
la tierra y la guitarra
lleva en su voz
el duelo
y la alegría
de la profunda hora.
El tiempo y la distancia
caen a la guitarra:
somos un sueño,
un canto
entrecortado:
el corazón campestre
se va por los caminos a caballo:
sueña y sueña la noche y el silencio,
canta y canta la tierra y su guitarra.

Ode to the guitar

. . . And the woman who plays
both earth and guitar
bears in her voice
the mourning
and the joy
of the most poignant moment.
Time and distance
fall away from the guitar.
We are a dream,
an unfinished
song.
The untamed heart
rides back roads on horseback:
over and over again it dreams of the night, of silence,
over and over again it sings of the earth, of its guitar.