Pablo Neruda (12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973 / Parral / Chile)
It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.
When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.
Poet Other Poems
- ‘Carnal Apple, Woman Filled, Burning Moo...
- ‘In the wave-strike over unquiet stones’
- ‘March days return with their covert lig...
- ‘Perhaps not to be is to be without your...
- A Dog Has Died
- A Lemon
- A Song Of Despair
- Algunas Bestias
- And because Love battles
- Brown and Agile Child
- Canto XII from The Heights of Macchu Pic...
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.