Speaking of evoking things, I came across a Pablo Neruda poem yesterday that made me think of you in the sense that I thought you might like it, particularly stanzas one and four. It's from Viente Poemas de Amor, and it's called "XIII I Have Gone Marking..."
I have gone marking the atlas of your body with crosses of fire. My mouth went across: a spider, trying to hide. In you, behind you, timid, driven by thirst.
Stories to tell you on the shore of evening, sad and gentle doll, so that you will not be sad. A swan, a tree, something far away and happy. The season of grapes, the ripe and fruitful season.
I who lived in a harbour from which I loved you. The solitude pierced by dream and silence, Penned up between the sea and sadness. Soundless, delirious, between two motionless gondoliers.
Between the lips and the voice something goes dying. Something with the wings of a bird, something of anguish and oblivion. The way nets cannot hold water. My toy doll, only a few drops are left trembling. Even so, something climbs to my ravenous mouth Oh, to be able to celebrate you with all the words of joy.
Sing, burn, flee, like a belfry at the hands of a madman. My sad tenderness, what comes over you all at once? When I have reached the most awesome and the coldest summit my heart closes like a nocturnal flower.
I have gone marking the atlas of your body
with crosses of fire.
My mouth went across: a spider, trying to hide.
In you, behind you, timid, driven by thirst.
Stories to tell you on the shore of evening,
sad and gentle doll, so that you will not be sad.
A swan, a tree, something far away and happy.
The season of grapes, the ripe and fruitful season.
I who lived in a harbour from which I loved you.
The solitude pierced by dream and silence,
Penned up between the sea and sadness.
Soundless, delirious, between two motionless gondoliers.
Between the lips and the voice something goes dying.
Something with the wings of a bird, something of anguish and oblivion.
The way nets cannot hold water.
My toy doll, only a few drops are left trembling.
Even so, something climbs to my ravenous mouth
Oh, to be able to celebrate you with all the words of joy.
Sing, burn, flee, like a belfry at the hands of a madman.
My sad tenderness, what comes over you all at once?
When I have reached the most awesome and the coldest summit
my heart closes like a nocturnal flower.
(translator: W.S. Merwin)
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that's so beautiful & vivid. i am utterly smitten with this poem.
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