Poetry Corner:


And it was at that age…Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from–winter, a river,
Don’t know how or when,
no, not voices, not
words, or silence,
but from a street it called me,
from the branches of night,
suddenly among others,
among violent fires
or going home alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

—Pablo Neruda