Poetry arrived

Poetry — Pablo Neruda 

And it was at that age... Poetry arrived 

in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where 

it came from, from winter or a river. 

I don't know how or when, 

no, they were not voices, they were not 

words, nor silence, 

but from a street I was summoned, 

from the branches of night, 

abruptly from the others, 

among violent fires or returning alone, 

there I was without a face 

and it touched me.