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Pablo Neruda

(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973 / Parral / Chile)

Lost In The Forest


Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind

as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood--
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.

Submitted: Monday, March 29, 2010

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  • Rookie - 37 Points Shihabudheen K J (12/6/2010 1:56:00 PM)

    It renders the reader a wandering scent as said in last line and brings the reader into hazy snow uncovered by human footsteps were there lies mysteries beyond imagination.i feel like walking through such a agony lusty woods. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Pious Pao (3/29/2010 4:07:00 AM)

    Classic! One of the best poems I have read. The image simply comes to life. (Report) Reply

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