Sunday, 13 February 2011

a love poem inspired by neruda


Tonight you speak to me some of my saddest thoughts.

Say, for instance,'The world is not large enough
to accommodate your solitude.'"

The sea breeze touches your soul with a balmy kindness.

Tonight you speak to me some of my saddest thoughts
How I hate you, and sometimes you hate me too.

It is on nights like this that we made love
I struggled against the infinite blackness we call the sky.

You hated me sometimes, and I hated you too.
How can one not hate your passionate sneer?

Tonight you speak to me some of my saddest thoughts.
To think I've never known you. To feel that thus, I can never lose you.

And this cruel and endless night, still more cruel without you.
The verse is tortured out of my soul like a last confession.

What does it matter that my intelligence cannot entice you?
The night is endless and my beauty might suffice.

This is all. Somewhere, someone might translate me. Somewhere.
Here we do not speak the same language.

I wish I could reach you.
My mind yearns for you, and you are never with me.

The same night which separates our understanding.
We, of shared knowledge, do not eat the same apple.

I no longer hate you, that's certain, but indeed I have hated you.
My voice tried to find words that could articulate my hatred.

Another's. You will be another's. You will read other poems.
Your silence. Your sharp eyes. Your passionate sneer.

I no longer hate you, that is for sure, but perhaps I hate you.
Hating is so easy, but to remember why is hard.

Because on nights like this you held me in your arms
and my soul revolts on knowing that you have lost me.

Though this is probably the last time you make me suffer
and this is the last time we share a poem.
This is perhaps the last time, that I write
or pretend to write
a poem for you.

3 comments:

Anoo. said...

modelled on one of my favourite poems of all times. reading this once again makes me think about loving and hating- loving to hate, hating to love. such close, passionate things. loved this piece immensely.

I no longer hate you, that is for sure, but perhaps I hate you.
Hating is so easy, but to remember why is hard.

Indeed.

Elendil said...

I like this.

There is a deceptive directness to it. It stings of the interplay of passion that is drying up and cold, dispassionate judgement.

Strawberry Amma said...

If Africa likes it, I should too. Thumbs up!