For What? For Whom?

Pablo Neruda's poems from The Book of Questions seem ready made for Poesía en movimiento. Here's one to ponder in a subway car or coming across the Gowanus viaduct on the BQE:

Will our life not be a tunnel
between two vague clarities?

Or will it not be a clarity
between two dark triangles?

Or will life not be a fish
prepared to be a bird?

Will death consist of nonbeing
or of dangerous substances? 

(XXXV; tr. William O'Daly)

No será nuestra vida un túnel


entre dos vagas claridades?



O no será una claridad


entre dos triángulos oscuros?



O no será la vida un pez


preparado para ser pájaro?





La muerte será de no ser


o de sustancias peligrosas?