My First Neruda

XVII (I do not love you...)

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.


Translated by Stephen Tapscott


By Pablo Neruda

Neruda has this way of fusing images and ideas in a way that goes straight to the heart and essence of the thing he is trying to ecapsulate. Most of his poetry goes straight to your heart and mind and you just have to catch your breath at its perfection.

The world is filled with things I did not know. I stopped posting up poetry earlier because I was morbidly afraid of copyright infringement. But having since come across a few more poetry blogs, I've realised that everyone seems to be doing it. I suppose it must be perfectly normal then.

Silly me.

All the same, I think I won't be putting up any poetry written by modern poets. At least, not the ones still alive. They might mind.