Sonnet XVII

Ahh, what a lovely Sunday morning it is. The apartment is quiet. I got to sleep in a little bit and then woke up to sunshine and birds singing. The hubby has to work today, and aside from folding laundry, the only thing I have to do today is lay on the couch and read. Tough life, huh? There probably won’t be a main post up today, but I may post some blurbs or some sort of treat. We’ll see what strikes my fancy.

Pablo Neruda is quickly becoming one of my favorite poets. His words are always lovely and beautifully constructed. Here is one of my favorites.

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were 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

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