To celebrate the day when words take the center stage, I’d like to share to you one of my favorite sonnets of all the time. I’d love to know what your favorite poem is, so post it and ping it back to me. It will be my pleasure to read a piece that has touched your life.
Here’s to all those who loved, to those who got broken and damaged, and to those who survived, and loved again.
by Pablo Neruda
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.
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.