Thursday, November 15, 2012

I saw it all from my green sky.

A poem for this week.

Pablo Neruda

It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.

When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.

1 comment:

  1. Very nice.

    "between sun and geography" -- indeed. I like that.

    For your poem-in-return, and speaking of birds, you remember of course that man who looked at a blackbird in thirteen ways.

    Here, thirteen blackbirds return the favor.

    Summer is
    at an end. The migrants
    depart. When they return
    in spring to the garden,
    will there be a man among them?