Home > poetry > Pablo Neruda for the soul.

Pablo Neruda for the soul.

Poetry

And it was at that time… Poetry came
to find me. Don’t know, don’t know from where,
it leapt, winter or the river.
Don’t know how or when
no, not words, not
voices, not silence,
but I was called from the street,
from the branches of the night,
suddenly, from the others,
in violent flames,
or coming back alone,
I, without a face,
it touched me.
I did not know how to say, my mouth
no names,
my eyes
were blind,
and something began in my soul,
fever or lost wings,
and I made it alone,
deciphering,
that fire,
and I wrote the first, vague line,
vague, without a body, pure
nonsense,
pure knowledge,
of he who knows nothing,
and suddenly saw
the sky
unlock
and open,
planets,
pulsating spaces,
perforated shadows,
riddled
with fires, flowers, flights,
the revolving night, the universe.
And I the smallest thing,
made drunk by the great void,
starred,
in the image, likeness
of mystery,
felt myself pure part
of abyss,
turned with the starlight,
my heart broken loose in the wind.

– Pablo Neruda

PS: This post inspired by the movie Il Postino

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Categories: poetry Tags: , , ,
  1. June 13, 2009 at 2:05 pm

    Some nights one feels like Neruda knows all, no? 🙂

    • June 15, 2009 at 9:36 pm

      Neruda does know all! Or as Rilke eloquently puts it:

      “If your everyday life seems poor, don’t blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poet to call forth its riches”

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