Love
- Pablo Neruda
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.
posted by GhostOfTomJoad @ 22:43
8 Comments:
Have a pdf of Selected Poems in Translation. Mail me if you would like a copy. theDOTpoetsDOTmind at GMail
have been thinking lately and think i'm right, that we tend to get habituated to yearning for unrequited love, build up the lover so much in our minds, and quite transform mere mortals into supermen/women. i mean really, could she/he really have been that wonderful?
heretic: Thanks a ton for offering your collection but I do have quite a few. Will let know if I want more :-)
cactusjump: What can I say? Umm, you have point but generalisations, either way, can be wrong. But I'm not sure you really mean it when you say "we...get habituated to yearning for unrequited love".
"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.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window."
yes. totally!
prerona: well...
jinal shah: I know, Neruda does have that effect on some people :-)
love love love this poem!
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