While going through my Pablo Neruda collection a few days ago, I came across this poem which I hadn't thought of in years. It could have been written only by a man who has had the sublime pleasure of wearing hand-knit socks on a cold day in winter. The last line is the best.
I can hardly believe now that I have no socks on my needles. There's a reason, I'm sure, but I can't think of one. I'll cast on today. These ordinary luxuries cannot be denied.
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7 comments:
I had no idea Neruda wrote an ode to handknit socks!
I will also cast some socks on today. Or maybe tomorrow.
Thank you for introducing me to that poem! It really makes me want to cast on socks for Lawyerguy (maybe when his sweater is finished).
Anne (knittingunderwater) sent me over here to read this poem. Thanks for sharing! And now I really REALLY need to learn how to knit socks.
Awesome! Thanks for sharing!
I can just imagine Neruda thinking about his rainy, Southern Chilean childhood as he was writing this poem. Although it also reminds that there is indeed something for which to be grateful during this terribly cold winter. If you really like Neruda, check out Red Poppy at www.redpoppy.net. It's a non-profit set up to create a documentary about Neruda, publish his biography, and translate his works into English.
I do adore this poem. Sorry for being so late to the party.
wow - i have not heard any neruda since i checked some out of the library during my college spanish class. thakns for reminding me - im tempted to run out and get some borges now, but my spanish skills might be too rusty!
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