King Arthur Movie Tristan

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --

because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.



Don't leave me, even for an hour, because

then the little drops of anguish will all run together,

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift

into me, choking my lost heart.



Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;

may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.

Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,



because in that moment you'll have gone so far

I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,

Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?



-pablo neruda




---------------






I wonder where Neruda came up with lines like:

then the little drops of anguish will all run together,

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift

into me, choking my lost heart.

When I read that, I kind of did a double take and read it again, just to savor it.

You will remember that leaping stream

where sweet aromas rose and trembled,

and sometimes a bird, wearing water

and slowness, its winter feathers.

You will remember those gifts from the earth:

indelible scents, gold clay,

weeds in the thicket and crazy roots,

magical thorns like swords.

You'll remember the bouquet you picked,

shadows and silent water,

bouquet like a foam-covered stone.

That time was like never, and like always.

So we go there, where nothing is waiting;

we find everything waiting there.



-pablo neruda





----

Every once in a while I'll read a poem by Neruda and I feel like it's my first time reading him. I never tire of his work. He creates these beautiful images and has the ability to stir emotions.



These lines instantly made me *sigh*.

You'll remember the bouquet you picked,

shadows and silent water,

bouquet like a foam-covered stone.

That time was like never, and like always.



Neruda always has this effect on me. Every time I discover another of his poems I'm happy I did.

And now you're mine. Rest with your dream in my dream.

Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.

The night turns on its invisible wheels,

and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.



No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,

we will go together, over the waters of time.

No one else will travel through the shadows with me,

only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.



Your hands have already opened their delicate fists

and let their soft drifting signs drop away;
your eyes closed like two gray
wings, and I move



after, following the folding water you carry, that carries

me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.

Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.



-Pablo Neruda


---------------------------------




Another beautiful poem from Neruda. This one reminds me of my husband.

I can't pick a favorite line, but I really like:

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,

we will go together, over the waters of time.

Neruda's work never fails to break my heart, but in a good way.

Do you see these hands?

They have measured the Earth,

They have separated minerals and cereals

They have made peace and war,

They have demolished the distances

Of all the seas and rivers



And yet,

When they roam

Over you, little one,

grain of wheat, swallow,

They cannot encompass you,



They embrace until exhaustion

The twin doves

That rest or fly upon your breast,

They travel the distances of your legs,

They coil in the light of your waist.



For me you are a treasure, greater

And more costly than the sea and its branches

And you are white and blue and vast

As Earth at Harvest Time.



In that territory,

From your feet to your brow,

I want to spend life,

Wandering, always wandering.


-Pablo Neruda



-----------------


Another perfect poem from Neruda. I think this one shows how he truly loves her, calling her a 'treasure', always wanting to hold onto her.

I think these are my favorite lines:

For me you are a treasure, greater

And more costly than the sea and its branches

I also like how he starts the poem off with a question.

What do you think of this one?

We have lost even this twilight.

No one saw us this evening hand in hand

while the blue night dropped on the world.



I have seen from my window

the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.



Sometimes a piece of sun

burned like a coin in my hand.



I remembered you with my soul clenched

in that sadness of mine that you know.



Where were you then?

Who else was there?

Saying what?

Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly

when I am sad and feel you are far away?



The book fell that always closed at twilight

and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.



Always, always you recede through the evenings

toward the twilight erasing statues.



-Pablo Neruda






As usual with Neruda I try to pick a favorite line and I can't chose just one.

I love the image he creates with:
The book fell that always closed at twilight

and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet....

His work is always painfully beautiful.
What do you think of this one?




(I took the photo above in the wee hours of the morning along the beach in Puerto Rico last summer. Just looking at that shot I can remember the soft sound of the waves.)

I have named you queen.

There are taller ones than you, taller.

There are purer ones than you, purer.

There are lovelier than you, lovelier.



But you are the queen.



When you go through the streets

no one recognizes you.

No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks

at the carpet of red gold

that you tread as you pass,

the nonexistent carpet.



And when you appear

all the rivers sound

in my body, bells

shake the sky,

and a hymn fills the world.



Only you and I,

only you and I, my love,

listen to it.


-pablo neruda



---------------------------------

Sorry if I'm boring you guys with more Neruda but I just wanted to post this one today, I really like it. It's another painfully romantic poem.


I like that he refers to his love as his 'queen', and how she moves him when she appears. What a lovely thought.

'And when you appear

all the rivers sound

in my body'


Isn't that what we all want? To mean everything to that special person in our lives.



art by godward

In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud

and your form and colour are the way I love them.

You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips

and in your life my infinite dreams live.



The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,

the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,

oh reaper of my evening song,

how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!



You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's

wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.

Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder

stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.



You are taken in the net of my music, my love,

and my nets of music are wide as the sky.

My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.

In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.

-Pablo Neruda




This is another favorite Neruda poem. I do prefer this one in Spanish, something is definitely lost in translation.

These are my favorite lines:

My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.

In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.

Neruda never fails to take my breath away.

What do you think?

When your hands leap

towards mine, love,

what do they bring me in flight?

Why did they stop

at my lips, so suddenly,

why do I know them,

as if once before,

I have touched them,

as if, before being,

they travelled

my forehead, my waist?

Their smoothness came

winging through time,

over the sea and the smoke,

over the Spring,

and when you laid

your hands on my chest

I knew those wings

of the gold doves,

I knew that clay,

and that colour of grain.

The years of my life

have been roadways of searching,

a climbing of stairs,

a crossing of reefs.

Trains hurled me onwards

waters recalled me,

on the surface of grapes

it seemed that I touched you.

Wood, of a sudden,

made contact with you,

the almond-tree summoned

your hidden smoothness,

until both your hands

closed on my chest,

like a pair of wings

ending their flight.



-Pablo Neruda



-------------------------



I figured I'd start my weekend off with a little Neruda.

I really can't pick a favorite line, but I do love:

The years of my life

have been roadways of searching,

a climbing of stairs,

a crossing of reefs....





Next week is Christmas Movie Week. I'll be posting about my favorite Christmas movies all week long.

Enjoy your weekend :O) And stay warm. It's a chilly 14 degrees here.

Love, we're going home now,


Where the vines clamber over the trellis:


Even before you, the summer will arrive,


On its honeysuckle feet, in your bedroom.





Our nomadic kisses wandered over all the world:


Armenia, dollop of disinterred honey:


Ceylon, green dove: and the YangTse with its old


Old patience, dividing the day from the night.





And now, dearest, we return, across the crackling sea


Like two blind birds to their wall,


To their nest in a distant spring:





Because love cannot always fly without resting,


Our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea:


Our kisses head back home where they belong.




Pablo Neruda





----------------------



I think this is a poem about reuniting:

Because love cannot always fly without resting


It seems two lovers were apart, and now are together once more.


Feel free to share your thoughts.

The memory of you emerges from the night around me.

The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.



Deserted like the wharves at dawn.

It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one!



Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.

Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.



In you the wars and the flights accumulated.

From you the wings of the song birds rose.



You swallowed everything, like distance.

Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank!



It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss.

The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse.



Pilot’s dread, fury of a blind diver,

turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank!



In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded.

Lost discoverer, in you everything sank!



You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire,

sadness stunned you, in you everything sank!



I made the wall of shadow draw back,

beyond desire and act, I walked on.



Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost,

I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you.



Like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness,

and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.



There was the black solitude of the islands,

and there, woman of love, your arms took me in.



There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit.

There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.



Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me

in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms!



How terrible and brief was my desire of you!

How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid.



Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs,

still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds.



Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs,

oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies.



Oh the mad coupling of hope and force

in which we merged and despaired.



And the tenderness, light as water and as flour.

And the word scarcely begun on the lips.



This was my destiny and in it was the voyage of my longing,

and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank!



Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you,

what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned!



From billow to billow you still called and sang.

Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel.



You still flowered in songs, you still broke in currents.

Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well.



Pale blind diver, luckless slinger,

lost discoverer, in you everything sank!



It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour

which the night fastens to all the timetables.



The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore.

Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate.



Deserted like the wharves at dawn.

Only the tremulous shadow twists in my hands.



Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything.



It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one.


-Pablo Neruda



--------------------------



This is one of the first poems I read by Neruda and it actually brought a tear to my eye.

There's just something so sad and desperate about it. Every line is fantastic.

He almost seems angry at her. It's as if he loved her and put all his hope into her, then it didn't work out. It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one.


It makes me wonder what his love did to him to make him write it.

How terrible and brief was my desire of you!

How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid.



Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs,

still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds.

What do you think of this one?









title: Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair , Pablo Neruda

Neither the heart cut by a piece of glass

in a wasteland of thorns

nor the atrocious waters seen in the corners

of certain houses, waters like eyelids and eyes

can capture your waist in my hands

when my heart lifts its oaks

towards your unbreakable thread of snow.



Nocturnal sugar, spirit

of the crowns,

ransomed

human blood, your kisses

send into exile

and a stroke of water, with remnants of the sea,

neats on the silences that wait for you

surrounding the worn chairs, wearing out doors.



Nights with bright spindles,

divided, material, nothing

but voice, nothing but

naked every day.



Over your breasts of motionless current,

over your legs of firmness and water,

over the permanence and the pride

of your naked hair

I want to be, my love, now that the tears are

thrown

into the raucous baskets where they accumulate,

I want to be, my love, alone with a syllable

of mangled silver, alone with a tip

of your breast of snow.



-Pablo Neruda






--------------------


Yet another wonderful poem by Neruda. I think my favorite lines are

over the permanence and the pride

of your naked hair

I want to be, my love, now that the tears are

thrown

into the raucous baskets where they accumulate

It's both passionate and beautiful. I like the imagery he is creating.

Reading his work you get the feeling that he loved a woman with all his heart and soul.

title: The Essential Neruda Selected Poems (Bilingual Edition)


author: Pablo Neruda


edited by Mark Eisner


published: 2004


genre: poetry


pages: 199


rated: 5 out of 5

This collection of Neruda's most essential poems will prove indispensable. Selected by a team of poets and prominent Neruda scholars in both Chile and the U.S., this is a definitive selection that draws from the entire breadth and width of Neruda's various styles and themes. An impressive group of translators that includes Alistair Reid, Stephen Mitchell, Robert Haas, Jim Harrison, Stephen Kessler and Jack Hirschman, have come together to revisit or completely retranslate the poems; and a handful of previously untranslated works are included as well. This selection sets the standard for a general, high--quality introduction to Neruda's complete oeuvre.



Pablo Neruda was born in Chile in 1904. He received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971.

Being a fan of Pablo Neruda's poetry, I wanted to get my hands on The Essential Neruda to take a look at more of his work. After reading Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, I fell in love with the poet.



The Essential Neruda contains 50 of Neruda's poems, not all of them about love.


I enjoyed this collection, a few of my favorites are in here, such as I Can Write the Saddest Lines, Leaning into the Afternoons and I Like For You To Be Still.

I did find the translation to be slightly different from the poems in Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, due to the different translators. I love reading Neruda's work in Spanish, it is painfully beautiful.

There is definitely something lost in translation, the feel of the work is a bit different when read in English. The words flow better in it's original Spanish text. I'm a sucker for sad poetry about love and heartache.



Though Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair remains my favorite collection of Neruda's poetry, I'm glad I read The Essential Neruda. I got to experience more of the poets work.

How can you not love Neruda's way with words?

Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.

My thirst, my infinite anguish, my indecisive path!

Dark riverbeds where eternal thirst follows,

and fatigue follows, and infinite sorrow.

-excerpt from Body of woman

There is also a poem in this collection called Ode With A Lament, that he wrote while his daughter was gravely ill. This one brought a tear to my eye.

Only with kisses and red poppies can I love you,

with rain-soaked wreaths

contemplating ashen horses and yellow dogs.

Only with waves at my back can I love you...

There's just so much beautiful and moving poetry in this collection, I can't possibly fit it all into one post. So I'll definitely continue posting his work regulary at my blog like I have been. I've gotten some great feedback on those posts and it makes me happy to see others enjoying Neruda's work as well.















excerpt from Ode to the book II


Book,

beautiful

book,

miniscule forest,

leaf

after leaf

your paper

smells

of the elements

you are

matutinal and nocturnal,

vegetal,

oceanic,

in your ancient pages

bear hunters,

camp fires

near the Mississippi

canoes

in the islands,

later

roads

and roads,

revelations

Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets

towards your oceanic eyes.



There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames,

its arms turning like a drowning man's.




I send out red signals across your absent eyes

that move like the sea near a lighthouse.



You keep only darkness, my distant female,

from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.



Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets

to that sea that beats on your marine eyes.



The birds of night peck at the first stars

that flash like my soul when I love you.



The night gallops on its shadowy mare

shedding blue tassels over the land.


-Pablo Neruda





------------------



I love this poem. I think my favorite line is:

The birds of night peck at the first stars

that flash like my soul when I love you.

The poem has a feel of unrequited love. It's as if he loves her, but cannot reach her. I send out red signals across your absent eyes

What do you think? Feel free to discuss.

Here I love you.

In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.

The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.

Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.



The snow unfurls in dancing figures.

A silver gull slips down from the west.

Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.



Oh the black cross of a ship.

Alone.

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.

Far away the sea sounds and resounds.

This is a port.

Here I love you.

Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.

I love you still among these cold things.

Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels

that cross the sea towards no arrival.

I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.

My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.

I love what I do not have. You are so far.

My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.

But night comes and starts to sing to me.



The moon turns its clockwork dream.

The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.

And as I love you, the pines in the wind

want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.





-Pablo Neruda



-----------------

Another beautiful poem by Neruda. I think my favorite lines are:

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.

Far away the sea sounds and resounds.

This is a port.

Here I love you.

Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.

I love you still among these cold things.

Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels


that cross the sea towards no arrival.

He just creates such sad and beautiful imagery, I can't help but 'sigh' as I read his work.

I hope you enjoy this poem, feel free to discuss :)

I remember you as you were in the last autumn.

You were the grey beret and the still heart.

In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.

And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.



Clasping my arms like a climbing plant

the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.

Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.

Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.



I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:

grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house

towards which my deep longings migrated

and my kisses fell, happy as embers.


Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:

Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!

Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.

Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.

-Pablo Neruda



artwork by john william godward

April is National Poetry Month and what better time than now to read and celebrate poetry? Serena has organized the National Poetry Month Blog Tour and I am happy to be a part of that.



My regular blog readers might have figured out by now that I do enjoy poetry. Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes and Robert Frost are among my favorites. Not too long ago I discovered the wonderful work of Pablo Neruda through the recommendation of fellow book blogger, Kelly. I read Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair and was amazed at the beauty and sadness to this collection of poems.
First published in 1924 as Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada, and translated in 1969, this collection of poetry is about love, loss and heartache.

I like reading Neruda's poetry in Spanish best, I feel it does lose something in translation. I think one of the reasons I enjoy his poems so much is simply because there is both beauty and pain to his words.








Neruda was born Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto on July 12, 1904 in Chile. His mother Rosa Basoalto, died two months after he was born. He showed a love of literature from an early age and took great inpsiration from Walt Whitman. By 1920 he took the pseudonym of Pablo Neruda, which he is thought to have taken from Czech poet Jan Neruda. Neruda was twenty when Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair was published, and this collection of poems made him a celebrity. In 1971 Neruda won the Nobel Prize for Literature. He is said to have almost always written using green ink because it was the color of Hope. Neruda was a diplomat and very much involved in politics. He was known as 'the people's poet'. From the 1940's and on, his works mostly reflected the political struggle in South America.



He passed away of heart failure on September 23, 1973.



It's hard for me to pick just one favorite Neruda poem, but I will leave you with a favorite called 'If You Forget Me'.


I want you to know
one thing.



You know how this is:

if I look

at the crystal moon, at the red branch

of the slow autumn at my window,

if I touch

near the fire

the impalpable ash

or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists:

aromas, light, metals,

were little boats that sail

toward those isles of yours that wait for me.




Well, now,

if little by little you stop loving me

I shall stop loving you little by little.



If suddenly

you forget me

do not look for me,

for I shall already have forgotten you.



If you think it long and mad,

the wind of banners

that passes through my life,

and you decide

to leave me at the shore

of the heart where I have roots,

remember

that on that day,

at that hour,

I shall lift my arms

and my roots will set off

to seek another land.



But

if each day,

each hour,

you feel that you are destined for me

with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower

climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah my love, ah my own,

in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love, beloved,

and as long as you live it will be in your arms

without leaving mine.




The video below is of Madonna reading this poem. I think it's really nicely done, especially the music that follows.




What do you think of this poem? Feel free to discuss. I think my favorite line is:

everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists:

aromas, light, metals,

were little boats that sail

toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

For me this poem is about a love that survives distance and time. About two people that are meant to be together even if they are apart.



You can read more of Pablo Neruda's work
here. I hope you will check him out if you haven't already done so.


Stop by Serena's blog to see the other bloggers on the tour and see the other poets that are being showcased.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.



Write, for example: "The night is shattered,

and the blue stars shiver in the distance."



The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.



Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

That I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.



On nights like this one, I held her in my arms.

I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.



She loved me, and sometimes I loved her too.

How could one not not have loved her great, still eyes?



Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think that I do not have her. To feel I have lost her.



To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.

And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.



What does it matter that my love could not keep her.

The night is shattered, and she is not with me.



This is all.

In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.

My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.



My sight searches for her as though to go to her

My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.



The same night whitening the same the same trees.

We, we who were, are the no longer the same.



I no longer love her, that is certain, but how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her ear.



Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before

Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.



I no longer love her, that is certain, but maybe I love her.

Love is so short, forgetting so long.



Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms,

my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.



Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer,

and these the last verses that I write for her.


- Pablo Neruda


artwork by john william godward



---------------

Another beautiful Neruda poem. My favorite line is 'Love is so short, forgetting so long.'

Tie your heart at night to mine, love,

and both will defeat the darkness

like twin drums beating in the forest

against the heavy wall of wet leaves.



Night crossing: black coal of dream

that cuts the thread of earthly orbs

with the punctuality of a headlong train

that pulls cold stone and shadow endlessly.



Love, because of it, tie me to a purer movement,

to the grip on life that beats in your breast,

with the wings of a submerged swan,



So that our dream might reply

to the skys questioning stars

with one key, one door closed to shadow.

-Pablo Neruda



-------------------------

Hi blogging friends. I hope you have a great weekend and Happy National Poetry Month :) I figured i'd post some Neruda. 'Tie your heart at night to mine, love,
and both will defeat the darkness'. I love it!

Make sure to stop by Serena's Blog, she is doing a National Poetry Month 2010 Blog Tour. And please come visit on April 24, where it's my turn on the tour, i'll be showcasing....you guessed it....Pablo Neruda.

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz

or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:

I love you as certain dark things are loved,

secretly, between the shadow and the soul.



I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries

hidden within itself the light of those flowers,

and thanks to your love, darkly in my body

lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.



I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you simply, without problems or pride:

I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,

so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,

so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.



-Pablo Neruda



------------------

Another favorite Neruda poem. I think this one is all about just loving someone, no matter what, and about being totally connected to that person. It's about love that is pure and true. I think the whole poem is beautiful, but I think this is my favorite line:

I love you as certain dark things are loved,

secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.

I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands; how did your lips feel on mine?



Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks, the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.



I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten your eyes.



Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.



Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.



I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.



Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting stars, falling objects.




-Pablo Neruda



----------------------------

This is another Neruda poem that just takes my breath away.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you.

There's pain and beauty to it, like in all of his work. What do you think of this one?