Bird

It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.

When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.

by Pablo Neruda

Other poems of NERUDA (144)

Comments (5)

A great start with a nice poem, Ghazala. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks
I did not know that u r a poet too. Something we have in common. I write poems too but only when I am sad or feeling low. Well composed poem. A good tribute to your dad
yup touching and nice. I loved the topic and indeed the treatment. nicely written and well managed. good work
It was a real pleasure to read this masterpiece and I am so moved as I can relate to this lovely poem.Keep up the good work and may god bless you! ! ! ! !
moving poem; relive the moments i was with my dad and after his demise...great poem