Del océano al verso. Las caracolas de Pablo Neruda

From California I brought a spiny murex, with silica in its barbs, its bristling elegance of a frozen rose bedecked with mist, and its pink palate interior burned with the soft shade of a fleshy corolla. And I had a cypraea whose spots fell on its cape, embroidering its pure velvet with burned rings of gunpowder or panther, and another had on its back, smooth as a wine glass, a branch of rivers tattooed on the moon. But the spiral line, sustained by air and sea alone, O stairway, delicate scalaria, O fragile monument of the dawn coiled by a ring with kneaded opal, exuding sweetness. Clearing the sand, I fetched from the sea the oyster bristling with bloody coral, spondylus, enclosing the light of its sunken treasure in its halves, chest enveloped in scarlet needles, or snow with assailing spines. In the sand I gathered the graceful oliva, wet wayfarer, purple foot, moist jewel in whose form fruit hardened its flame, crystal polished its marine condition and the dove rounded its oval nakedness. MOLLUSCA GONGORINA 42 universidad de chile