Days Are Bees

Explore the essence of time with Neruda's "Still Another Day: XVIII." Dive into the undivided flow of life's sweetness and pain. Read and reflect.

Days Are Bees
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Pablo Neruda reimagines time and life, contesting the overused metaphor of a river. Days are bees, bringing both sweetness and pain.
The days aren't discarded or collected, they are bees that burned with sweetness or maddened the sting: the struggle continues, the journeys go and come between honey and pain.
No, the net of years doesn't unweave: there is no net. They don't fall drop by drop from a river: there is no river. Sleep doesn't divide life into halves, or action, or silence, or honor:
life is like a stone, a single motion, a lonesome bonfire reflected on the leaves, an arrow, only one, slow or swift, a metal that climbs or descends burning in your bones.
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Neruda describes life as a singular motion, not divided by moments of sleep and action. For Neruda, life is more like a stone, a fire, or an arrow. In other words, indivisible and felt with intensity.

Story From

Pablo Neruda Collection