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*sunshine*sand*sea*sunset*
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Friday, February 11, 2005Soneto XVII Pablo Neruda No te amo como se fueras rosa de sal, topacio o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego: te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras, secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma. Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva dentro de si, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores, y gracias y tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo el apritado aroma que ascendio de la tierra. Te amo sin saber como, ni cuando, ni de donde, te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo: asi te amo porque no se amar de otra manera, si no asi de este modo en que no soy ni eres, tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mia, tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueno. Veinte Poemas de amor y una cancion desesperada Pablo Neruda XX Puedo escribirlos versos mas tristes esta noche. Escribir, pro ejemplo: "La noche esta estrellada, y tritran, azueles, los astros a lo lejos." El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta. Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. Yo la quise, y a veces ella tambien me quiso. En las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos. La bese tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito. Ella me quiso, a veces yo tambien la queria. Como no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos. Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido. Oir la noche inmensa, mas inmensa sin ella. Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocio. Que imprta que mi amor no pudiera guardarla. La noche esta estrelladay ella no esta conmigo. Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos. Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. Como habla acercarla mi mirada la busca. Mi corazon la busca, ye ella no esta conmigo. La misma noche que hace lanquear los mismos arboles. NOsotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos. Ya no la quiero, es cierto, para cuanto la quise. Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oido. De otro. Sera de otro. Como antes de mis besos. Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos. Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero. Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido. Porque en noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos, Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. Aunque este sea el ultimo dolor que ella mi causa, y estos sean los ultimos versos que yo le escribo. Sonnet 17 Pablo Neruda I do not love you as if you were a rose made of salt or topaz or an arrow of carnations spreading fire: I love you the way certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul. I love you like the plant that does not flower, but conceals within itself the light of those flowers; and, thanks to your love, the darkness of my body houses the suffocating aroma that arose from the earth. I love you without knowing how, when, or where from; I love you straightforwardly, with neither problems nor pride: I love you so, not knowing how to love you otherwise, just this way that is not me and is not you... So close that your hand on my chest is mine, so close that your eyes grow heavy when my eyes tire. Twenty love poems and a song of despair Pablo Neruda XX Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example: "The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance." The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her. To hear immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like a dew to the pasture. What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is shattered and she is not with me. This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. My sight searches for her as though to go to her. My heart looks fer her, and she is not with me. The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same. I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing. Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before. Her voice. Her bright body. Her inifinte eyes. I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is short, forgetting is so long. Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses I write for her. Haaaaay... //Sunkissed at 5:52 PM
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