Posted by: akilamoni | September 26, 2007

I could learn a foreign tongue just to read these lines they way he wrote it:

see my dead house,
look at broken Spain :
from every house burning metal flows
instead of flowers,
from every socket of Spain
Spain emerges
and from every dead child a rifle with eyes,
and from every crime bullets are born
which will one day find
the bull’s eye of your hearts.

And you’ll ask: why doesn’t his poetry
speak of dreams and leaves
and the great volcanoes of his native land?

Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see
The blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood
In the streets!



  1. you are back and that too with neruda!!!
    and you are so right!

  2. After readin this i searched for the whole poem.. i think its one of the most beautiful poems on war ive ever read. Its all there… the boiling rage, the insurmountable despair, the hurt and pain… thank you for finding it.
    Noone like Neruda.

  3. at arpita:

    yep…exactly what I had in mind….its almost like the poem has a voice which is echoing the emotions…just rings!

  4. Makes me think you’ll like “City of God”, if you haven’t seen it already… 🙂

  5. @anon:
    will check it up…thanks for the recommendation!

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