pablo neruda
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- lost in the woods,
- i snapped off a dark branch and,
- lifted its murmur,
- in thirst,
- to my lips:
- perhaps the weeping voice of the rain,
- a shattered bell,
- or a broken heart.
- it came to me,
- something out of far distance,
- deeply concealed,
- and hidden by earth,
- a cry,
- defeated by immense autumns,
- by half-opened moistness of shadowy leaves.
- But waking out of the wood’s dream there,
- that hazel branch sang under my tongue,
- and its vagrant perfume rose to my mind as if suddenly roots i had long abandoned searched me,
- the lost domains of childhood,
- and held me,wounded by wandering fragrance.