THE WORDS WHICH CREATED THE FIRST SPARK OF POETRY IN ME...

And it was at that age...poetry arrived,

In search of me. I don't know where it came

from winter or a river

I don't know how or when

no, they were not voices, they were not words, nor silence,

But from a street it called me, from the branches of the night,

abruptly from the others,

among the raging fire,

or returning alone,

there it was, without a face,

and it touched me.

(Pablo Neruda)