To the solemn sea the old women come
With their shawls knotted around their necks
With their fragile feet cracking.
They sit down alone on the shore
Without moving their eyes or their hands
Without changing the clouds or the silence.
The obscene sea breaks and claws
Rushes downhill trumpeting
Shakes its bull's beard.
The gentle old ladies seated
As if in a transparent boat
They look at the terrorist waves.
Where will they go and where have they been?
They come from every corner
They come from our own lives.
Now they have the ocean
The cold and burning emptiness
The solitude full of flames.
They come from all the pasts
From houses which were fragrant
From burnt-up evenings.
They look, or don't look, at the sea
With their walking sticks they draw signs in the sand
And the sea erases their calligraphy.
The old women get up and go away
With their fragile bird feet
While the waves flood in
Traveling naked in the wind.
Back to Pablo Neruda
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Comments1I remeber reading this poem when I was younger, and it's stil so beautiful 🥺 The imagery of the old women at the ocean just captivates me. It makes me think ofour lives as being so fleeting, and everything seems to change. How they look at the waves, and sea like they've seen so much in their lives. Im always so amazed how beautifully poets create sceneries and stories with words. The relationship between the old ladies and the ocean really touched me. I feel like I understand life a bit more now 💖