Love

So many days, oh so many days 
seeing you so tangible and so close, 
how do I pay, with what do I pay? 

The bloodthirsty spring 
has awakened in the woods. 
The foxes start from their earths, 
the serpents drink the dew, 
and I go with you in the leaves 
between the pines and the silence, 
asking myself how and when 
I will have to pay for my luck. 

Of everything I have seen, 
it's you I want to go on seeing: 
of everything I've touched, 
it's your flesh I want to go on touching. 
I love your orange laughter. 
I am moved by the sight of you sleeping. 

What am I to do, love, loved one? 
I don't know how others love 
or how people loved in the past. 
I live, watching you, loving you. 
Being in love is my nature. 

You please me more each afternoon. 

Where is she? I keep on asking 
if your eyes disappear. 
How long she's taking! I think, and I'm hurt. 
I feel poor, foolish and sad, 
and you arrive and you are lightning 
glancing off the peach trees. 

That's why I love you and yet not why. 
There are so many reasons, and yet so few, 
for love has to be so, 
involving and general, 
particular and terrifying, 
joyful and grieving, 
flowering like the stars, 
and measureless as a kiss. 

That's why I love you and yet not why. 
There are so many reasons, and yet so few, 
for love has to be so, 
involving and general, 
particular and terrifying, 
joyful and grieving, 
flowering like the stars, 
and measureless as a kiss.
— Pablo Neruda

Kindly Share The Love »»

Tweet

Save on Delicious