And it was at that age … Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
and open,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
likeness, image of
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.

~~ Pablo Neruda ~~


8 responses to “Poetry

    • Good Morning Karina! I had to take another look at your blog to see where you are…you are in Indonesia, is that right? Your morning is my evening…here in California in the US. Have a wonderful day there sweet friend. ๐Ÿ™‚

      • Hi Carol
        Actually I am no longer live in Indonesia but I was born in Indonesia. Now I live in Singapore. Yes you absolutely right! We have a difference time about 11 hours. Now herein 9.21Am and I just arrived to my office:) maybe now on your timezone you would preparing to sleep ๐Ÿ™‚

  1. “nd it was at that age โ€ฆ Poetry arrived
    in search of me. I donโ€™t know, I donโ€™t know where
    it came from, from winter or a river.
    I donโ€™t know how or when,”

    Me too Carol. Me too….

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