*Pablo Neruda*

PUEDO ESCRIBIR LOS VERSOS...

I can write the saddest verses tonight. 
     Write, for example: "The night sky is full of stars, 
     And far away, blue, celestial bodies tremble". 
     The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

 
     I can write the saddest verses tonight. 
     I loved her, and sometimes she also loved me. 
     Through nights like tonight I held her in my arms. 
     I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. 
     She loved me, and sometimes I also loved her. 
     How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

 
     I can write the saddest verses tonight. 
     To think that I do not have her. To feel that I lost her. 
     To hear the immense night, even more immeasurable without her. 
     And the verse falls to the soul as dew to the pasture.

 
     It does not matter that my love could not keep her. 
     The night sky is full of stars, and she is not with me. 
     This is all. In the distance someone sings. In the distance.

 
     My soul cannot be relieved now that I lost her. 
     My eyes search for her, trying to bring her close to me. 
     My heart searches for her, and she is not with me. 


     The same night, whitening the same trees. 
     We, of that time, are no longer the same. 
     I no longer love her, it is true, but how I loved her. 


     My voice tried to find the wind to caress her hearing. 
     Another's. She must belong to someone else, just as she belonged to my kisses. 
     Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes. 
     I no longer love her, it is true, but maybe I still love her. 
     Love is so short, and forgetting takes so long.

 
     Because through nights like tonight I held her in my arms, 
     My soul cannot be relieved now that I lost her. 
     Even when this is the last pain she causes me 
     And these are the last verses that I write about her. 
 
 
 
~Pablo Neruda~









 Love Sonnet XVII 

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, 
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. 
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, 
in secret, between the shadow and the soul. 
I love you as the plant that never blooms 
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; 
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, 
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. 
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; 
so I love because I know no other way 

than this: where I does not exist, nor you, 
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, 
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. 

~Pablo Neruda~









"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 impemprable 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 sailed 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 clmbs up to your lips to seek me. . . 
ahh my love, ahh 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. . . 

~Pablo Neruda~ 
  


 
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