<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476082" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Poetry</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived<br>in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where<br>it came from, from winter or a river.<br>I don't know how or when,<br>no they were not voices, they were not<br>words, nor silence,<br>but from a street I was summoned,<br>from the branches of night,<br>abruptly from the others,<br>among violent fires<br>or returning alone,<br>there I was without a face<br>and it touched me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I did not know what to say, my mouth<br>had no way<br>with names,<br>my eyes were blind,<br>and something started in my soul,<br>fever or forgotten wings,<br>and I made my own way,<br>deciphering<br>that fire,<br>and I wrote the first faint line,<br>faint, without substance, pure<br>nonsense,<br>pure wisdom<br>of someone who knows nothing,<br>and suddenly I saw<br>the heavens<br>unfastened<br>and open,<br>planets,<br>palpitating plantations,<br>shadow perforated,<br>riddled<br>with arrows, fire and flowers,<br>the winding night, the universe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I, infinitesimal being,<br>drunk with the great starry<br>void,<br>likeness, image of<br>mystery,<br>felt myself a pure part<br>of the abyss,<br>I wheeled with the stars,<br>my heart broke loose on the wind.</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=476082" data-title="Poetry de Pablo Neruda" data-description="And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don't know how or when, no they were not voices, they were not words, nor silence, but from a street I was summoned..."></div> </div> </div>

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