Sonnet XVII
bookshelfI have long loved the poetry of Pablo Neruda, ever since I discovered it (and him) in my late high school years. A lot of my early writings were inspired by the emotions his pieces evoked. It seemed like he was always heartbroken, the girl just a little bit out of reach. I loved that he used that brokenness to create something beautiful, and to me, that is beautiful in itself.
Although I have loved and still love many of his poetry, over the years, I have kept coming back to an excerpt from Sonnet XVII that my heart just cannot seem to forget.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
Side Note(s):
- This post is Day 11 of the WeblogPoMo2024 challenge.
- The translations of his poems are beautiful, that I can’t even image the beauty of the originals in Spanish.
- I've read them in Spanish, but need to learn to appreciate them a bit more as I continue to learn the language.
