Thanks to the world that says thanks!
Thanks to thanks
word,
that melts
iron and snow!
The world is a threatening place
until
thanks
makes the rounds
from one pair of lips to another,
soft as a bright
feather
and sweet as a petal of sugar,
filling the mouth with its sound
or else a mumbled
whisper,
Life becomes human again:
it’s no longer an open window.
A bit of brightness
strikes into the forest,
and we can sing again beneath the leaves.
Thanks, you’re the medicine we take
to save us from the bit of scorn.
Your light brightens the altar of harshness.
Or maybe
a tapestry known
to far distant peoples.
Travelers
fan out
into the wilds
and in the jungle
of strangers,
merci
rings out
while the hustling train
changes coutries,
sweeping away borders,
then spasibo
clinging to pointy
volcanoes, to fire and freezing cold,
or danke, yes! gracias,and
the world turns into a table:
a single word has wiped it clean,
plates and glasses gleam,
silverware tinkles
and the tablecloth is broad as a plain
Thank you, thanks,
for going out and returning,
for rising up
and settling down.
We know, thanks,
that you don’t fill every space-
you’re only a word-
but
where your little petal
appears
the daggers of pride take cover
and the’s a penny’s worth of smiles.
Pablo Neruda
