Explore "These days, one must fly-but where to?" by Pablo Neruda on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
These days, one must fly-but where to? without wings, without an airplane, fly-without a doubt: the footsteps have passed on, to no avail; they didn't move the feet of the traveler along.
At every instant, one must fly-like eagles, like houseflies, like days: must conquer the rings of Saturn and build new carillons there.
Shoes and pathways are no longer enough, the earth is no use anymore to the wanderer: the roots have already crossed through the night, and you will appear on another planet, stubbornly transient, transformed in the end into poppies.