Saturday, November 14, 2015

Song of Despair

The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.

Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one!

Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.

In you the wars and the flights accumulated.
From you the wings of the song birds rose.
. . .

--- Pablo Neruda




1 comment:

All Over the Place

My maiden name is Spence.  I really like smoked salmon.  Imagine my delight, therefore, upon seeing this today at Fresh Market: Yes, I ...