What does one do with the post after 2500 posts? We begin again, naturally. For what are we to do with the next but demonstrate that we’ve grown a bit in these hours? To spoon away at infinity is no small thing. And perhaps stop carrying on about numbers and immerse in poetry once again. Here’s one by Pablo Neruda that left me awestruck and stays with me still:

I am one of those who live
in the middle of the sea and close to the twilight,
A little beyond those stones.

When I came
and saw what was happening
I decided on the spot.

The day had spread itself
And everything was light
And the sea was beating
Like a salty lion,
Many-handed.

All that deserted space was singing
And I, lost and awed,
Looking toward the silence,
Opened my mouth and said:
“Mother of the foam,
Expansive solitude,
Here I will begin my own rejoicing,
My particular poetry.”

From then on I was never
Let down by a single wave.
I always found the flavor of the sky
In the water, in the earth,
And the wood and the sea burned together
Through the lonely winters.

I am grateful to the earth
for having waited
for me
when the sky and sea came together
like two lips touching;
for that’s no small thing, no?—
to have lived
through one solitude to arrive at another,
to feel oneself many things and recover wholeness.

I love all the things there are,
And of all fires
Love is the only inexhaustible one;
And that’s why I go from life to life,
From guitar to guitar,
And I have no fear
Of light or of shade.

And almost being earth myself,
I spoon away at infinity.

So no one can ever fail
To find my doorless numberless house—
There between dark stones,
facing the flash
of the violent salt,
there we live, my woman and I,
there we take root.
Grant us help then.
Help us to be more of the earth each day!
Help us to be
More the sacred foam,
More the swish of the wave!
— Pablo Neruda, This is where we live

I realize I haven’t posted any of Pablo Neruda’s poetry on this blog before this one. It’s an oversight on my part, partly because of an inclination to post the entire poem, partly because I don’t speak Spanish and rely heavily on the translation. But what a translation! And with that in mind, I hope to explore more of his work in future posts. Semper discens, semper crescens (always learning, always growing).