“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, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.”
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There was a time when I used to write poetry. It was a long time back, during my college days. Vignesh was one of the very few who has read them. ( He used to write quite a lot of them as well .. )
After aimlessly wandering on the web for a while, I chanced upon the above poems by neruda. I remember getting inspired when I read those words on a lazy sunday afternoon in the balcony of my Trivandrum home.
Some moments do stay back as memories for you to savour.