The girl made of wood didn't come here on foot;
suddenly there she was on the beach, sitting on the cobbles,
her head covered with old sea flowers,
her expression the sadness of roots.There she stayed, wathcing over our open lives,
the moving and being and going and coming, over the earth,
as the day faded its gradual petals. the girl made of wood:crowned by ancient waves, she looked out
through her shipewrecked eyes.
she knew we live in a distant netof time and water and waves and noise and rain,
without knowing if we exist, if we exist, or if we are are her dream.
This is the story of the girl made of wood.PABLO NERUDA
