Poetry Week

Yesterday was a poem about life and today’s poem is about love.

Sonnet 17 – Pablo Neruda

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

In which there is no I or you
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand
so intimate that when you fall asleep it is my eyes that close

Again with me picking out a poem that I love to say aloud. There is just something about poetry that to me is equally about speaking as it reading. I’m a huge fan of Pablo Neruda and this is definitely my favorite. It reminds me of Sonnet 130 by Shakespeare only a bit more serious (and with less insults). If anyone wants to woo me, this is the poem they should use.