Reflections

Yes, but here I am alone. A wave builds up, perhaps it says its name, I don’t understand, it mutters, humps in its load of movement and foam and withdraws. Who can I ask what it said to me? Who among the waves can I name? And I wait. Once again the clearness approached, the soft numbers rose in foam and I didn’t know what to call them. So they whispered away, seeped into the mouth of the sand. Time obliterated all lips with the patience of shadow and the orange kiss of summer. I stayed alone, unable to respond to what the world was obviously offering me, listening to that richness spreading itself, the mysterious grapes of salt, love unknown, and in the fading day only a rumor remained, further away each time, until everything that was able to changed itself into silence. P.S. One reason why I really like Neruda is because I share the same love for the Sea with him. This poem describes in the best possible way, the thoughts I have each time I think a...

Tall and expansive, Like a huge magnet attracting, He walked on by the side of the sea. Swaying to the music of the waves, As they splashed against the shore, Each time trying in vain, To come closer to him. As close as they could. He could hear them whining, Sometimes smiling, And sometimes talking to him. Each time he had a question, He hurled it to the waves, Abide they did, To their duty of serving their master, The Wavecatcher. Dear Wavecatcher, will you bring me that wave? Which one is it that you crave? That wave which is far far away, Bigger than you and I, Bigger than the sea, Behold, as it come towards you, Perhaps it grows bigger and bigger, Perhaps it just dies midway, I could never tell, But you can, can you? He controlled them like a magician, Creating surprises from his black magical hat. He played with them like a musician, Each note distinct and soulful. He adored them like a lover, Caressing the wo...