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Ode to Bicycles

Anyone who knows me or who's read this blog, knows that I'm an avid cyclist. For me, physical activity is part of a mindful life - cycling is one way I celebrate my life and my good fortune. But for many, it's a means of survival.


This ode by Pablo Neruda not only is praise of the bike, but acknowledgement of those very individuals.
I was walking
 down 
a sizzling road:
 the sun popped like
 a field of blazing maize,
 the
 earth
 was hot,
 an infinite circle
 with an empty
 blue sky overhead.
A few bicycles
 passed
 me by,
 the only
 insects
 in
 that dry 
moment of summer,
 silent, 
swift,
 translucent;
they
 barely stirred
 the air.

Workers and girls
 were riding to their
 factories, 
giving 
their eyes 
to summer, 
their heads to the sky,
sitting on the
 hard 
beetle backs 
of the whirling 
bicycles 
that whirred 
as they rode by 
bridges, rosebushes, bramble s
and midday.
I thought about evening when 
the boy s
wash up, 
sing, eat, raise 
a cup 
of wine 
in honour 
of love 
and life,
 and waiting 
at the door, 
the bicycle, 
stilled, 
because 
only moving 
does it have a soul, 
and fallen there 
it isn't 
a translucent in sect
humming 
through summer 
but
 a cold 
skeleton 
that will return to 
life 
only
 when it's needed, 
when it's light, 
that is, 
with 
the
 resurrection 
of each day.


-Pablo Neruda

Comments

  1. Thanks for sharing this. I like the way you describe your love for the bike and how you "celebrate my life and my good fortune". That's awesome. Keep on Loving the Bike and putting up great stuff here on your blog.


    Darryl

    ReplyDelete

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