P EEB 15 ... I like you calm as missing ...
I like you calm as absent,
and hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you.
seems that your eyes had flown
it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.
As all things are filled with my soul
from things, filled my soul.
butterfly of dream, you were my soul,
and I like the word melancholy
I like you calm and you seem far away.
you are a moaning, a butterfly cooing.
hear me from afar, and my voice does not reach you Let me come
your silence.
Let me talk to you with your silence
bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
are like the night, stillness and constellations.
Your silence is star, as remote and candid.
I like you calm as absent.
distant and painful as if you were dead.
A word then, one smile is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it's not true.
Poem 20 ... I can write the saddest lines tonight ...
I can write the saddest lines tonight. Write
, for example: "The night is starry
and shiver, blue stars in the distance."
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this I held my arms.
kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
do not have loved her great still eyes.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
think that I have not. Feel that I lost.
hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the verse falls to soul as dew to grass.
does it matter that my love could not keep.
The night is starry and she is not me.
That's it. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is lost without her.
as though to my eyes search.
My heart looks, and she is not me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, then, are no longer the same.
longer love her, true, but how I loved.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
the other. Will be someone else. As before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
longer love her, true, but maybe I love.
Love is so short and forgetting is so long.
Because on nights like this I held my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Although this is the last pain she causes me,
and these the last verses that I write.
Pablo Neruda (Chile)
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