nothing but death by Pablo Neruda


On this day one year ago I lost my father (May 13th of 2019). My dad loved poetry and books in general. Pablo Neruda always reminded me of my dad. The following poem is for him who lived so peacefully as no other man I've known.  In the photo above he is in his late teens, before he fell in love with my mom. He was great believer of love, had faith in kindness and lots of patience through his life.  

Nothing but death

by Pablo Neruda

There are cemeteries that are lonely,
graves full of bones that do not make a sound,
the heart moving through a tunnel,
in it darkness, darkness, darkness,
like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves,
as though we were drowning inside our hearts,
as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul.

 

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