Friday, March 17, 2006

Sonnet XVII



I do not love you as if you were the 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~

2 comments:

Southern Boy said...

GM TD!!

WOW- Just when I think you have put up the ultimate sky pic, you outdo yourself again.

Amazing.

Nice poem, too.

Have A Southern Day

SmileyTD said...

Good morning, SB!!!

That pic is a new one. As I walked across the road to get my mail Thursday evening, I saw how beautiful the sky was. Soooo...I walked back to the car, grabbed my camera and stood in the middle of Route 4 taking pictures. You should have seen the looks I got from the people nearby. LMAO I believe they thought I'd flipped my lid. hahaha

Thank you greatly for the compliments. As always, they mean a lot to me. :)

I love that poem, but it inadvertently reminds me of the movie Patch Adams. LOL

Hope you have a great day, yourself!!