Whats Up with Life?

Grabe, ang great ni Pablo Neruda! I just had to put these poems in my blog! Theyre just so...vavoom...wow...extraordinarily moving and passionate. Galing. Idol!!!

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and 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 the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry 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 tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for 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. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so 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 that I write for her.

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.

Your Laughter

Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter. Do not take away the rose, the lance flower that you pluck, the water that suddenly bursts forth in joy, the sudden wave of silver born in you. My struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes tired at times from having seen the unchanging earth, but when your laughter enters it rises to the sky seeking me and it opens for me all the doors of life. My love, in the darkest hour your laughter opens, and if suddenly you see my blood staining the stones of the street, laugh, because your laughter will be for my hands like a fresh sword. Next to the sea in the autumn, your laughter must raise its foamy cascade, and in the spring, love, I want your laughter like the flower I was waiting for, the blue flower, the rose of my echoing country. Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon, laugh at the twisted streets of the island, laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you, but when I open my eyes and close them, when my steps go, when my steps return, deny me bread, air, light, spring, but never your laughter for I would die.

 

He does not love me yet the morning sun continues to rise after the darkest hour of night.

 Another day to endure: To endure knowing his life will go on-unknown of my love as my love would never feel his.

And my life would be as if it were a temporary pause of death... waiting, hoping to be revived by love, only his love.    

This day would be as if were an infinite night, just like my other days, deprived by the joy of sunrise.

 

He does not love me yet the revitalizing morning breeze still fills air, and i start to deeply inhale the freshness of the wind.

Its freshness did not seem to matter, for inside me is polluted with sorrow and loneliness longing for him and his love.

I would rather tornados and sandstorms if only wind could blow away this emotion.

But all i could do is exhale with a tremendous sigh because he does not love me.

 

He doesnt love me yet a sea of flowers still blossom spreading its elegance and fragance everywhere.

I imagine how it would feel like if these flowers were planted by him for me, what a great feeling that would be.

I dream about him and me together in the bed of sunflowers, running, laughing, loving...

So I pick a flower and smell its aroma and remember that he does not love me. What a melancholic scent it is. 

 

He does not love me yet the music continues to play a grande valse.

I recall the days when he played for me on his piano - such beautiful waltzes which silenced my soul.

Couples dance and people sing from a distance old familiar love songs and I hum its tune and realize that I am alone.

But suddenly the waltzes and love songs suddenly become my own heart's requiem as i remember that he does not love me.

 

He does not love me yet the stars boldly shine as if no darkness could cover them.

Its spectacle as it twinkles and lights up the sky could not compare to any other beauty which i have seen. 

I look up and see the brilliant mysterious sparkle and wonder whether we are looking at the same stars tonight.

Now I feel even more pathetic as I see its beauty without him.

 

What is beauty without his love?

Beauty is melancholy, for all that I see beautiful is because of him and his love.

So, i shall live a melancholy life until he loves me...

and everyday I shall sleep in hope that at least in my dreams I shall find beauty.... 

 

He does not love me yet the morning sun continues to rise after the darkest hour of night.

 Another day to endure: To endure knowing his life will go on-unknown of my love as my love would never feel his.

And my life would be as if it were a temporary pause of death... waiting, hoping to be revived by love, only his love.    

This day would be as if were an infinite night, just like my other days, deprived by the joy of sunrise...

Would'nt it be nice to be

the girl you are looking out the window for every night

as the stars that dazzle in different hues

You wish upon a star that her face may show

The girl with a thousand sparkles

that light your cellar of darkness

 

How lucky that girl could be

to have someone like you waiting for her

but theres another world

different and far from what you know

another world, another girl, waiting

that lonely girl is me.

 

Would'nt it be grand if we all lived in fairytale land

You'll be my prince, and I'll be your princess

We'll live happily ever after, our love endless

We'll watch sun set behind mountains under that brilliant crimson sky

you'll hold my hand and i'll hold yours

we'll never say goodbye

 

How lucky would i be if that girl could be me

to have someone like you holding me tightly

but you have another world

different, far from what I know

another world, another girl you're waiting for

and it isn't me...

I struggle to find words to write

but all i feel is emptiness inside

Its like I'm tied up by chains to a wall

can't break free and fall

My body full of thirst

my hands try to grab the drink

the cup of water falls to the floor

dreams begin to sink

My voice screams for mercy

yet wispers of air only come out

My eyes search for light in this cold dark prison cell

Are my eyes even open?

I can't tell the difference...

Where have all the happy words gone?