Pretty long one tonight, since I've been slack and all.
Also, I've pretty much fallen in love with Pablo Neruda. All quotes in this are from him, I know some are long but i really recommend reading them, they're beautiful.
Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself,
And that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.
But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.
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.
Laughter is the language of the soul.
Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us.
To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.
As if you were on fire from within,
The moon lives in the lining of your skin.
You are like nobody, since I love you.
And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.
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.
My love feeds on your love, beloved,
And as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.
Love! Love until the night collapses!
Do not forget, if I wake up crying it's only because in my dream I'm a lost child,
Hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands.
Because love cannot always fly without resting,
Our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea:
Our kisses head back home where they belong.
By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness.
If we were not so single-minded about keeping our lives moving and for once could do nothing,
Perhaps a huge silence might interrupt this sadness of never understanding ourselves, and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the world can teach us as when everything seems dead but later proves to be alive.
I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest.
I want to eat the sunbeams flaring in your beauty.
Give me silence, water, hope.
Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.
In what language does rain fall over tormented cities?
Love is the mystery of water and a star.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,
Because in that moment you'll have gone so far I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking, will you come back?
We the mortals touch the metals, the wind, the ocean shores, the stones,
Knowing they will go on, inert or burning,
And I was discovering, naming all the these things:
It was my destiny to love and say goodbye.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
Of everything I have seen, it's you I want to go on seeing:
Of everything I've touched, it's your flesh I want to go on touching.
I love your orange laughter, I am moved by the sight of you sleeping.
What am I to do, love, loved one?
I don't know how others love or how people loved in the past.
I live, watching you, loving you.
Being in love is my nature.
You please me more each afternoon.
Where is she? I keep on asking if your eyes disappear.
How long she's taking! I think, and I'm hurt.
I feel poor, foolish and sad, and you arrive and you are lightning glancing off the peach trees.
That's why I love you and yet not why.
There are so many reasons, and yet so few,
For love has to be so, involving and general, particular and terrifying, joyful and grieving, flowering like the stars, and measureless as a kiss.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
For me happiness was to share singing, praising, cursing, crying with a thousand eyes.
I ask forgiveness for my bad ways: my life had no use on earth.
Give me, for my life, all lives.
Give me all the pain of everyone, I'm going to turn it into hope.
Give me all the joys, even the most secret, because otherwise how will these things be known?
I have to tell them.
Give me the labors of everyday, for that's what I sing.
Then love knew it was called love.
And when I lifted my eyes to your name, suddenly your heart showed me my way.
And I watch my words from a long way off.
They are more yours than mine.
Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.
You swallowed everything, like distance.
Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank.
Nobody can claim the name of Pedro, nobody is Rosa or María.
All of us are dust or sand, all of us are rain under rain.
They have spoken to me of Venezuelas, of Chiles and Paraguays;
I have no idea what they are saying.
I know only the skin of the earth and I know it has no name.
Maybe nothingness is to be without your presence,
Without you moving, slicing the noon like a blue flower,
Without you walking later through the fog and the cobbles,
Without the light you carry in your hand, golden, which maybe others will not see,
Which maybe no one knew was growing like the red beginnings of a rose.
In short, without your presence: without your coming suddenly, incitingly, to know my life, gust of a rosebush, wheat of wind:
Since then I am because you are, since then you are, I am, we are,
And through love I will be, you will be, we will be.
I love all things,
Not because they are passionate or sweet-smelling,
But because, I don't know.
Because this ocean is yours, and mine:
These buttons and wheels and little forgotten treasures,
Fans upon whose feathers love has scattered its blossoms,
Glasses, knives and scissors --
All bear the trace of someone's fingers on their handle or surface,
The trace of a distant hand lost in the depths of forgetfulness.
Tomorrow we will only give them a leaf of the tree of our love,
A leaf which will fall on the earth, like if it had been made by our lips,
Like a kiss which falls from our invincible heights to show the fire and the tenderness of a true love.
I personally love this post, let me know what you think about it.
Comment, rec, sub <3