One, more and I swear this is the end... I saw this little sweet tableau in Rachels garden. I know, you are thinking bunnies and angels kissing? Why must I torture? Well it was hidden and it was sweet and it wasn't the main focus of her garden... alone these little dudes are LAME but the simplest act of pairing them makes us feel something else. Can you do this with accesories in fashion? How about with two lamps, vases, necklaces? Think about it.
Beauty isn't always obvious..
This brings me to a love poem I know, and in the spirit of Julie & Johns wedding this summer,
I shall post it for you. It's Well Done love.
Sonnet XVII
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.
-- by Pablo Neruda, trans. by Stephen Tapscott
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.
-- by Pablo Neruda, trans. by Stephen Tapscott
2 comments:
Neruda is my favorite.
I sent this poem to my lover. I will know when I see him how he feels about it.
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