photograph by John Davies
by Pablo Neruda
Well, I never went back, I no longer
from not going back, the sand willed it
and as part wave and part channel,
syllable of salt, leech of water,
I, soverign, slave of the coast
surrendered, chained to my rock.
There is no freedom anymore for us
who are fragments of the mystery,
there is no way out for returning
to oneself, to the stone of oneself,
no other stars remain except the sea.
From WINTER GARDEN, by Pablo Neruda.
Used by permission of Copper Canyon Press.