Poetry - Pablo Neruda

[Guest guest]

And it was at that age...Poetry arrivedin search of me. I don't know,

I don't know whereit came from, from winter or a river.I don't know

how or when,no, they were not voices, they were notwords, nor

silence,but from a street I was summoned,from the branches of

night,abruptly from the others,among violent firesor returning

alone,there I was without a faceand it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouthhad no waywith namesmy eyes were

blind,and something started in my soul,fever or forgotten wings,and I

made my own way,decipheringthat fireand I wrote the first faint

line,faint, without substance, purenonsense,pure wisdomof someone who

knows nothing,and suddenly I sawthe heavensunfastenedand

open,planets,palpitating planations,shadow perforated,riddledwith

arrows, fire and flowers,the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesmal being,drunk with the great starryvoid,likeness,

image ofmystery,I felt myself a pure partof the abyss,I wheeled with

the stars,my heart broke free on the open sky.~ Pablo Neruda

 

 

Love,Mazie Take advantage of our best MSN Dial-up offer of the year —

six months @$9.95/month. Sign up now!