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"POETRY ARRIVED IN SEARCH OF ME"
PABLO NERUDA
IV. (The Morning Is Full)
by Pablo Neruda - 1924
The morning is full of storm
in the heart of summer.
Like white hankerchiefs of farewell the clouds travel
the wind rattles them with its travelling hands.
Innumerable heart of wind
beating over our enamoured silence.
Buzzing between the trees, orchestral and divine,
like a tongue full of wars and of chants.
Wind that takes in swift plunder the dry leaves
and derails the beating arrows of the birds.
Wind that tumbles her in a wave without foam
and substance without weight, and fires leaning over.
Her mass of kisses bursts and sinks
battered in the door of the summer wind.
XV. (I Like You When You Are Silent)
by Pablo Neruda - 1924
I like you when you are silent because you are as though absent,
and you hear me from afar, and my voice does not touch you.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away from you
and it seems as though a kiss had shut your mouth.
As all things are full of my soul
you emerge from all things, full of my soul.
Butterfly of slumber, you seem like my soul,
and you look like the word melancholy.
I like you when you are silent and you are as though distant.
And you are as if plaintive, a butterfly cooing.
And you hear me from afar, and my voice does not reach you:
let me be silent with your silence.
Let me speak to you as well with your silence
bright as a lantern, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, hushed and full of stars.
Your silence is of the stars, so distant and simple.
I like you when you are still because you are as though absent.
Distant and mournful as if you had died.
One word then, one smile is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it is not true.
PABLO NERUDA
If You Forget Me
by Pablo Neruda - 1952I 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.
