Dropping by to update and write newfound things. These days, life for me has been hectic. From exam drafts, initial evaluations, articles that I need to edit and all that stuff. And there are some incidents that sound bothering but then I'd rather not divulge. After all, I promised that I'll just put the sweet, joyful and nice sentiments on this blog.
Now back to regular programming.
Yesterday, I learned that Luigi was a fan of Pablo Neruda and his love poems (jeepers! his works are actually part of my written exercises -- I don't fluently speak Spanish but it was through Pablo Neruda's works that I learned how to translate words from Spanish to English.) Probably, Luigi was a bit surprised I knew who Pablo Neruda is. I told him that I got acquainted to Neruda's works through my former beau who is actually a huge fanatic. But actually, I also find his poems good that I even fell in love too with one of his works, If You Forget Me.
Now back to regular programming.
Yesterday, I learned that Luigi was a fan of Pablo Neruda and his love poems (jeepers! his works are actually part of my written exercises -- I don't fluently speak Spanish but it was through Pablo Neruda's works that I learned how to translate words from Spanish to English.) Probably, Luigi was a bit surprised I knew who Pablo Neruda is. I told him that I got acquainted to Neruda's works through my former beau who is actually a huge fanatic. But actually, I also find his poems good that I even fell in love too with one of his works, If You Forget Me.
If You Forget Me
Pablo Neruda
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
Pablo Neruda
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
This actually is one nice break-up poem. As a writer, I started with poems and this love poem still makes me cry. I was really surprised when Luigi said he likes the love poems of this author. A bit hopeless romantic? Well, I can't exactly tell. Actually, I have always thought that mushy love poems are actually corny, shallow stuff for guys so it took me by surprise when he said that he actually likes the works of this Chilean writer and politician.
Oh, and I think he likes chocolates too.
