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
I am in love with life right now. And tulips. And my husband. And poetry!
My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.
-Pablo Neruda, Your Laughter
I am so happy! You all get to enjoy poetry because of it.
Jon got me this adorable lion for Christmas a few years ago. He sits on my desk in the office, but today he told me he wanted to go outside and get a little sunshine! Of course, it was raining, but there was a break in the clouds.
-Rachael Yamagata, I’ll Find a Way
I’m enjoying a peaceful, quiet and rainy day today. There is a cool breeze and it’s not too overcast. This kind of weather makes moss like this very happy!
Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.
Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind
as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood—
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
Pablo Neruda
I hope everyone enjoys their Easter! And if you don’t celebrate it, have a lovely Sunday afternoon. It’s 70 and sunny here, quite nice.