03/04/2009

-Why?

- Why not? 

- Why is it why not? - Because it is... 

- What is it ? 

- It is in my heart, in my soul...it is...more than words could express...  

I will let Neruda express it, even if I think it is also too much for him to tell, even for a great man like him...

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I could write the very saddest verses tonight  

Writing, for example "The night is sprinkled  

With stars sparkling blue, far away." 

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. 

I could write the very saddest verses tonight   I loved her and at times she also loved me. 

On nights like this I had her in  my arms.   I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. 

She loved me, at times I also loved her.   How could I not love her big staring eyes? 

I could write the very saddest verses tonight.   To think I don't have her. To feel that I have lost her. 

To hear the immense night, even more immense without her.   And the verses fall on the soul like dew on the pasture. 

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her?   The night is full of stars and she's not with me. 

That's all. Far off someone is singing. Far off   My love is not used to having lost her. 

How my glance looks for her to get close to her.   My heart looks for her and she's not with me. 

The same night that turns the same trees white.   We aren't now the same way we were then. 

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how much I loved her.   My voice searched on the wind to touch her ear. 

Someone else's, she's someone else's. Like before I kissed her.   Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes. 

I no longer love her, that's certain, but perhaps I love her.   Love lasts so short and forgetting takes so long. 

But on nights like this I had her in my arms.   My heart is not used to having lost her. 

Although this may be the last pain that she causes me   And these may be the last verses that I write her.

Pablo Neruda - POEM TWENTY from Twenty Poems of Love and One of Desperation