It was the twilight of the iguana: <br /> <br />From a rainbowing battlement, <br />a tongue like a javelin <br />lunging in verdure; <br />an ant heap treading the jungle, <br />monastic, on musical feet; <br />the guanaco, oxygen-fine <br />in the high places swarthed with distances, <br />cobbling his feet into gold; <br />the llama of scrupulous eye <br />the widens his gaze on the dews <br />of a delicate world. <br /> <br />A monkey is weaving <br />a thread of insatiable lusts <br />on the margins of morning: <br />he topples a pollen-fall, <br />startles the violet-flght <br />of the butterfly, wings on the Muzo. <br /> <br />It was the night of the alligator: <br />snouts moving out of the slime, <br />in original darkness, the pullulations, <br />a clatter of armour, opaque <br />in the sleep of the bog, <br />turning back to the chalk of the sources. <br /> <br />The jaguar touches the leaves <br />with his phosphorous absence, <br />the puma speeds to his covert <br />in the blaze of his hungers, <br />his eyeballs, a jungle of alcohol, <br />burn in his head.<br /><br />Pablo Neruda<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/some-beasts/
