Wednesday, April 13, 2005
XV From:’ Veinte poemas de amor’
by Pablo Neruda
I like you calm, as if you were absent,
and you hear me far-off, and my voice does not touch you.
It seems that your eyelids have taken to flying:
it seems that a kiss has sealed up your mouth.
Since all these things are filled with my spirit,
you come from things, filled with my spirit.
You appear as my soul, as the butterfly’s dreaming,
and you appear as Sadness’s word.
I like you calm, as if you were distant,
you are a moaning, a butterfly’s cooing.
You hear me far-off, my voice does not reach you.
Let me be calmed, then, calmed by your silence.
Let me commune, then, commune with your silence,
clear as a light, and pure as a ring.
You are like night, calmed, constellated.
Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.
I like you calm, as if you were absent:
distant and saddened, as if you were dead.
One word at that moment, a smile, is sufficient.
And I thrill, then, I thrill: that it cannot be so.
Monday, April 04, 2005
It’s never too late
And the lot always is
Walking on its own time,
Even despair or desolation
Ought to have no significance.
For hope never falters
It’s relentlessly there.
Even sitting beside you
Or standing behind you,
And every so often,
It’s right in your face
But you missed its company.
One just needs to ascertain,
How to seize the possibility
That hope has to tender.
Neither can we charge circumstance
Nor reason with fate.
As choice is always certain,
And it’s our verdict to make.