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.

by Pablo Neruda

Other poems of NERUDA (144)

Comments (2)

I was snagged by that perfect first line: Life is now fugly. The poem, itself, is obviously personal, yet universal in its content. Thumbs up!
Welcome to PH, Dear Poet. You have nicely portrayed the chapter of your life which is otherwise very very important as you enter into a new phase, though, the loss of friends will be felt badly. Thanks. life seems to be ceased / on the way, while moving.. I was, when, with best friends.... Today.... leaving no reason to live.