Prose from the Pros #12: Neruda
Here is another poem from Pablo Neruda. I carried this one around in my pocket on April 14th for Poem in Your Pocket Day to celebrate National Poetry Month. Enjoy!
The Morning is Full
By Pablo Neruda
The morning is full of storm
in the heart of summer.
The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of good-by,
the wind, traveling, waving them in its hands.
The numberless heart of the wind
beating above our loving silence.
Orchestral and divine, resounding among the trees
like a language full of wars and songs.
Wind that bears off the dead leaves with a quick raid
and deflects the pulsing arrows of the birds.
Wind that topples her in a wave without spray
and substance without weight, leaning fires.
Her mass of kisses breaks and sinks,
assailed in the door of the summer's wind.
The Morning is Full
By Pablo Neruda
The morning is full of storm
in the heart of summer.
The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of good-by,
the wind, traveling, waving them in its hands.
The numberless heart of the wind
beating above our loving silence.
Orchestral and divine, resounding among the trees
like a language full of wars and songs.
Wind that bears off the dead leaves with a quick raid
and deflects the pulsing arrows of the birds.
Wind that topples her in a wave without spray
and substance without weight, leaning fires.
Her mass of kisses breaks and sinks,
assailed in the door of the summer's wind.
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