Ali Alikhani
My blogs
| Gender | Male |
|---|---|
| Location | Canada |
| Links | Audio Clip |
| Introduction | And it was at that age...poetry arrived in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don't know how or when, no, they were not voices, they were not words, not silence, but from a street it called me, from the branches of night, abruptly from the others, among raging fires or returning alone, there it was, without a face, and it touched me. I didn't know what to say, my mouth had no way with names, my eyes were blind. Something knocked in my soul, fever or forgotten wings, and I made my own way, deciphering that fire, and I wrote the first, faint line, faint, without substance, pure nonsense, pure wisdom of someone who knows nothing; and suddenly I saw the heavens unfastened and open, planets, palpitating plantations, the darkness perforated, riddled with arrows, fire, and flowers, the overpowering night, the universe. And I, tiny being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, felt myself a pure part of the abyss. I wheeled with the stars. My heart broke loose with the wind. Pablo Neruda, "Poetry." If you like it, share it. And please comment! your criticism polishes my mirror. One love. |