Thursday, June 18, 2009

Poetry by Pablo Neruda

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.


Ann Marie said...

Oooh! I love that!
~ And the picture reminds me of your Dad! :)

I'll see you tomm!
Thanks for the e-mail! :)

Adele said...

Pablo Neruda is the first Nobel Prize winner from Chile. (There have only been two.) His amazing house at Isla Negra was in my Mission boundaries. I got to visit a couple of times. I love his poetry. I heard all sorts of stories about how during Pinochet's reign his poetry was outlawed, and he'd been imprisoned, etc.... and how people hid copies of his works in their houses. Pretty interesting!

Marie said...

That is beautiful! I used to read his poetry in Spanish classes, and they were some of the most beautiful, sensuous (using all the senses) pieces I ever read. Thank you for sharing!

Katia Shtefan said...

If you really like Neruda, check out Red Poppy at It's a non-profit set up to create a documentary about Neruda, publish his biography, and translate his works into English. To see our blog on Neruda’s literary activism, go to