Sonnet XXV
Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own:
I wavered through the streets, among Objects:
Nothing mattered or had a name:
The world was made of air, which waited.
I knew rooms full of ashes,
Tunnels where the moon lived,
Rough warehouses that growled 'get lost',
Questions that insisted in the sand.
Everything was empty, dead, mute,
Fallen abandoned, and decayed:
Inconceivably alien, it all
Belonged to someone else - to no one:
Till your beauty and your poverty
Filled the autumn plentiful with gifts.
Pablo Neruda
Federico GarcĂa Lorca,Pablo Neruda,Anna Akhmatova,Andre Breton,Vladimir Mayakovsky,Sohrab Sepehri,Paul Celan, Forugh Farrokhzad, A. Shamlou,Pushkin,Hafez -e Shirazi,Bertolt Brecht,Langston Hughes,Osip Mandelstam,,DH Lawrence,Aleksandr Blok,Paul Eluard....
Thursday, January 26, 2012
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