Pablo Neruda's poems are so beautiful. He might have been a communist, but he knew how to write a poem! I need to get one of his collections...maybe when I have more money I will.
Sonnet 17
I do not love you as if you were the saltrose, 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 straight forwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I live 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.
His words are simplistic, perhaps because they've been translated from Spanish, but they are beautiful and carry images and emotions that more flowery words couldn't possess. I love his elements of darkness as being connected to his love, though I'm not sure why. I wonder how many people feel that kind of love in their lives.
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