Explore "Ode to the Chair" by Pablo Neruda on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A chair in the jungle: under the severe lianas a sacred tree trunk creaks, tangles of vines press high, in the shadows bloody beasts cry out, majestic leaves descend from the green sky, the rattles of snakes quiver like bells.
A bird spanned the sprawling greenness, like an arrow shot through a flag, and branches hoisted high their violins.
Insects pray in stillness, seated on their wild bouquets.
Feet sink into the black sargasso of the watery jungle, into the rain forest's tumbled clouds.
I only request one thing for the stranger, for the desperate explorer, a chair in the tree of chairs, a throne, disheveled and plush, the velvet of a deep easy chair, eaten away by creepers.
Yes, a chair, loving the universe, for the walkabout man, the sure foundation, the supreme dignity of rest!
Behind thirsty tigers, bands of bloodthirsty flies, behind the black expanse of ghost-ridden leaves, behind the low waters, the thicket like iron, perpetual snakes, in the middle of the thunder, a chair, a chair, for me, for everyone, a chair not only for the weary body's rescue, but also for everything, and for everybody, to renew lost strength, and for meditation.
War is wide like the light-starved jungle.
Peace begins in a single chair.