(no subject)

[thewondergirl.livejournal.com]

Love

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects.

Pablo Neruda

Comments

ah, yes

[daigdigtulaako.livejournal.com]

the familiar tone of neruda. this is definitely going to my memories. Thanks.

[sapience.livejournal.com]

oh, sweet sadness.

[watashi.livejournal.com]

Gorgeous. No one writes like Neruda.

[jadedpoet84.livejournal.com]

Of course, it had to be Neruda...