I don’t love you as if you were
a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that
propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain
obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow
and the soul.
One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII
Pablo Neruda
Translated
Mark Eisner. http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/179257/
And I love him Pablo as one
loves the colorless, failure and doubt;
The gaping impossibility of
oceans that cleave
Abandoned motherland and
American son; my love
A child's grasp and claw at
an unwanted sibling's entry.
And yet I love him as a
lion's roar lacerates
The sky in fleshly signals of
lust and feast.
Laughing at futility, denying
denials
Stealing the gift with peals
of joyous hope.
Sand at low tide neither sea
nor land
Just there, waiting for
water's return.
I love him unheard, as an
obscure thing,
Unseen between shadow and
soul.
So distant my pulse drowns in
passage
So distant our touch is
misplaced.
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