Sunday, April 18, 2010

Sonnet Sunday: Neruda

Sorry it's late: busy day.
Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.


  1. Beautiful! is this your translation?

  2. Alas, no, I am not a very impressive linguist, it was the most cohesive translation I found.
    Thank you for your email about forums on the RH site, I may be able to drop by this weekend.

  3. Oops, just saw your reply here. LOL. I was starting to worry that I was annoying you. :D (I hope I'm not! Btw, we're got a new caption contest. :)

    Oh, and the translation, whoever did it, is beautiful. Thanks for sharing it.