XVII (I Do Not Love You)

XVII (I do not love you...)

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 you 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

Holy Mother...
  • Current Location: home
  • Current Mood: melancholy melancholy
  • Current Music: Ancient Aliens on TV
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*sniffles quietly*
I love Pablo, he's one of my all time favourite poets. His ability to conjure emotion is second to none.
Re: *sniffles quietly*
In this poem, he's certainly captured everything I've been enduring for about six months now. It's heartening to know I'm not the only one who loves him.
yeah back at the house
with broken ribs (they weren't just bruised)
and house-induced insomnia!

wonderful poem, tho, innit?
Ouch. Sorry for your poor ribs. No laughing for you, for a while. Did they do anything? Do they tape them anymore or just let them be?

The poem is amazing. I'll look for more by Neruda. Methinks this dark love affair of yours is bitter sweet - but definitely there is some sweetness to it. Try not to let it get you down. All love is good. Even when it's not allowed to come out and play. *winks*
Nah, I'm just supposed to breathe deeply a few times a day with a pillow pressed to the affected area.

Do look up more of Neruda's material. He's lovely.