Pablo Neruda

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

Sonnet Xxv - Poem by Pablo Neruda

Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own:
I wavered through the streets, among
Objects:
Nothing mattered or had a name:
The world was made of air, which waited.

I knew rooms full of ashes,
Tunnels where the moon lived,
Rough warehouses that growled 'get lost',
Questions that insisted in the sand.

Everything was empty, dead, mute,
Fallen abandoned, and decayed:
Inconceivably alien, it all

Belonged to someone else - to no one:
Till your beauty and your poverty
Filled the autumn plentiful with gifts.


Comments about Sonnet Xxv by Pablo Neruda

  • Bronze Star - 2,533 Points john tiong chunghoo (7/4/2006 7:57:00 AM)

    your genius shines through in this poem. you use so many apt and effective examples to let us feel your pain and joy for a love.; (Report) Reply

    3 person liked.
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Read poems about / on: poverty, autumn, moon, beauty, lost, world, love, sonnet



Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 5, 2003

Poem Edited: Friday, May 16, 2008


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