Clenched Soul

We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.

by Pablo Neruda

Comments (6)

of a high, gliding dribble and a man letting the play develop in front of him in slow motion, almost exactly like a coach's drawing on the blackboard, - wonderful poem
Amazing narration of the moves of a player in the game with an equally amazing style making the whole poem greatly enjoyable. Thanks for sharing.10+ points.
Very vivid imagery. I see it all unfold. Enjoyable. :)
To the wrong man! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
I see I will have tolearn more about basketball
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