If your eyes were not the color of the moon,
of a day full [here, interrupted by the baby waking -- continued about 26
hours later ]
of a day full of clay, and work, and fire,
if even held-in you did not move in agile grace like the air,
if you were not an amber week,
not the yellow moment
when autumn climbs up through the vines;
if you were not that bread the fragrant moon
kneads, sprinkling its flour across the sky,
oh, my dearest, I could not love you so!
But when I hold you I hold everything that is --
sand, time, the tree of the rain,
everything is alive so that I can be alive:
without moving I can see it all:
in your life I see everything that lives.
written by Pablo Neruda, published on Sat 11.13.2010 at 14:06
The young maricones and the horny muchachas,
The big fat widows delirious from insomnia,
written by Pablo Neruda, published on Sun 10.31.2010 at 05:44
In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
written by Pablo Neruda, published on Mon 09.20.2010 at 15:02
Ancient night and the unruly salt
beat at the walls of my house.
The shadow is all one, the sky
written by Pablo Neruda, published on Fri 08.06.2010 at 19:16
Neither the heart cut by a piece of glass
in a wasteland of thorns
nor the atrocious waters seen in the corners
written by Pablo Neruda, published on Wed 08.04.2010 at 09:24
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.