July 8, 2009

poem by Pablo Neruda

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Translated by Stephen Tapscott

Why this poem today? It makes me think of someone, he's not far but runs from me all the time. Love, real love, passionate love, is not easily forgotten, we are fools in love, thinking we can control it. It linger and festers, changing us forever. I have stop running from it , I surrender to it, and will now wait for it to come, it comes, it always comes.


  1. I like your blog, it makes me feel smart!

  2. We all have this longing, whether it applies to someone specific or a dream person who hasn't yet appeared in our lives . . .