This will be a brief post, possibly the last for three weeks, as I will be busy with my two Devil Kids (my grandchildren) on a trip. My absence may be noticeable.
Nonetheless, I wish to share this poem by Pablo Neruda, not only with you but also with all freedom fighters and advocates for liberty worldwide, especially those in the forlorn nation of Iran.

Enjoy your time in between and make the most of it! 🤗🤙

#WomanLifeFreedom – #NoExecutionInIran – #FreePoliticalPrisoners

AUTUMN’S TESTAMENT

Between dying and not dying
I chose the guitar.
and in this challenging profession
My heart has no rest,
because where they least expect me
I will arrive with my luggage.
To harvest the first wine
In the autumn huts.

I will come in if they close the door,
And if they accept me, I’ll leave,
I am not one of the seafarers.
Those are lost in the frosts:
I am comfortable like the wind, I,
with the most yellowed leaves
with the funds that have fallen
from the eyes of the statues
And if I rest somewhere
It will be in the heart of the fire.
In everything that vibrates and creaks
and then travels without a destination.

In the passage of the verses
You will have found your name,
I’m very sorry,
It wasn’t about anything else
But for much more,
Why are you or aren’t you
And this is happening all over the world,
No one understands everything,
And when the amounts are added up
We were all fake-rich:
Now we are newly poor.

Source: (STMOL)