Everything on the earth bristled, the bramble
pricked and the green thread
nibbled away, the petal fell, falling
until the only flower was the falling itself.
Water is another matter,
has no direction but its own bright grace,
runs through all imaginable colors,
takes limpid lessons
from stone,
and in those functionings plays out
the unrealized ambitions of the foam.
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Comments1JUST READ A POEM BY PABLO NERUDA THAT TAKES ME BACK! REMEMBERED READING IT AS A KID. AMAZING HOW HE SPEAKS ABOUT NATURE IN IT. HIS WORDS ARE AS BEAUTIFUL AS I REMEMBER. SO MANY VIVID IMAGERY AND EMOTIONS. MAKES YOU REALLY THINK ABOUT THINGS. TRULY, NERUDA WAS A GENIUS! STIL FEELS FRESH DESPITE THE YEARS.