Thank you for your patience while we retrieve your images.
10 of 17 photos

Morning Mist

Pablo Neruda, The Book of Questions: XLIX

When I see the sea once more
will the sea have seen or not seen me?
Why do the waves ask me
the same questions I ask them?
And why do they strike the rock
with so much wasted passion?
Don't they get tired of repeating
their declaration to the sand?
Morning Mist