<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476071" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode To Broken Things</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Things get broken <br>at home <br>like they were pushed <br>by an invisible, deliberate smasher. <br>It's not my hands <br>or yours <br>It wasn't the girls <br>with their hard fingernails <br>or the motion of the planet. <br>It wasn't anything or anybody <br>It wasn't the wind <br>It wasn't the orange-colored noontime <br>Or night over the earth <br>It wasn't even the nose or the elbow <br>Or the hips getting bigger <br>or the ankle <br>or the air. <br>The plate broke, the lamp fell <br>All the flower pots tumbled over <br>one by one. That pot <br>which overflowed with scarlet <br>in the middle of October, <br>it got tired from all the violets <br>and another empty one <br>rolled round and round and round <br>all through winter <br>until it was only the powder <br>of a flowerpot, <br>a broken memory, shining dust. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And that clock <br>whose sound <br>was <br>the voice of our lives, <br>the secret <br>thread of our weeks, <br>which released <br>one by one, so many hours <br>for honey and silence <br>for so many births and jobs, <br>that clock also <br>fell <br>and its delicate blue guts <br>vibrated <br>among the broken glass <br>its wide heart <br>unsprung. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Life goes on grinding up <br>glass, wearing out clothes <br>making fragments <br>breaking down <br>forms <br>and what lasts through time <br>is like an island on a ship in the sea, <br>perishable <br>surrounded by dangerous fragility <br>by merciless waters and threats. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let's put all our treasures together <br>-- the clocks, plates, cups cracked by the cold -- <br>into a sack and carry them <br>to the sea <br>and let our possessions sink <br>into one alarming breaker <br>that sounds like a river. <br>May whatever breaks <br>be reconstructed by the sea <br>with the long labor of its tides. <br>So many useless things <br>which nobody broke <br>but which got broken anyway</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Pablo+Neruda">Pablo Neruda</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476071" data-title="Ode To Broken Things de Pablo Neruda" data-description="Things get broken at home like they were pushed by an invisible, deliberate smasher. It's not my hands or yours It wasn't the girls with their hard fingernails or the motion of the planet. It wasn't anything or anybody It wasn't the wind..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black