Friday, 26 February 2010

The saddest poem.... My favourite poet-

I adore Pablo Neruda - his writing is haunting, poignant and raw and for years i've turned to him when i'm swooping and dipping on the emotional rollercoaster of life. His phrases capture and totally echo my heart ...  he's a poet for a certain mood, and there are times when his words are the last that i want ... but sometimes...  

'To hear the immense night, more immense without her'

Sums up perfectly that 2am feeling of loneliness and solitude that can hit at the unlikeliest of times. That there is now a space where once there was someone ...

This was the feeling i had last night - out of the blue i was wide awake and feeling the immensity of London and my insignificance within it. To avoid thoughts of love, loss and what once was, i shifted my thoughts to thinking about what to post today - and then i returned to a space that is becoming familiar to me ... What is this blog about? How much of me do i release? Is this 'me' or another version of 'me'? 

I don't have answers to these questions but i do know that there is so much of significance going on in my life that if i don't share some of it then i will remain one dimensional on this screen.

For now i will leave you with these beautifully haunting words - but soon i shall share more of my story with you ... 

A la prochain dear ones... x

The Saddest Poem
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.
Pablo Neruda 

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