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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476078" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode to the Book</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When I close a book<br>I open life.<br>I hear<br>faltering cries<br>among harbours.<br>Copper ignots<br>slide down sand-pits<br>to Tocopilla.<br>Night time.<br>Among the islands<br>our ocean<br>throbs with fish,<br>touches the feet, the thighs,<br>the chalk ribs<br>of my country.<br>The whole of night<br>clings to its shores, by dawn<br>it wakes up singing<br>as if it had excited a guitar.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The ocean's surge is calling.<br>The wind<br>calls me<br>and Rodriguez calls,<br>and Jose Antonio--<br>I got a telegram<br>from the &quot;Mine&quot; Union<br>and the one I love<br>(whose name I won't let out)<br>expects me in Bucalemu.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No book has been able<br>to wrap me in paper,<br>to fill me up<br>with typography,<br>with heavenly imprints<br>or was ever able<br>to bind my eyes,<br>I come out of books to people orchards<br>with the hoarse family of my song,<br>to work the burning metals<br>or to eat smoked beef<br>by mountain firesides.<br>I love adventurous<br>books,<br>books of forest or snow,<br>depth or sky<br>but hate<br>the spider book <br>in which thought<br>has laid poisonous wires<br>to trap the juvenile<br>and circling fly.<br>Book, let me go.<br>I won't go clothed<br>in volumes,<br>I don't come out<br>of collected works,<br>my poems<br>have not eaten poems--<br>they devour<br>exciting happenings,<br>feed on rough weather,<br>and dig their food<br>out of earth and men.<br>I'm on my way<br>with dust in my shoes<br>free of mythology:<br>send books back to their shelves,<br>I'm going down into the streets.<br>I learned about life<br>from life itself,<br>love I learned in a single kiss<br>and could teach no one anything<br>except that I have lived<br>with something in common among men,<br>when fighting with them,<br>when saying all their say in my song.</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>
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<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=476078" data-title="Ode to the Book de Pablo Neruda" data-description="When I close a book
I open life.
I hear
faltering cries
among harbours.
Copper ignots
slide down sand-pits
to Tocopilla.
Night time.
Among the islands
our ocean
throbs with fish,
touches the feet, the thighs,
the chalk ribs
of my country.
The whol..."></div>
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