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One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII
BY PABLO NERUDA
TRANSLATED BY MARK EISNER
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
Pablo Neruda
poet Pablo Neruda #5 on top 500 poets Poet's PagePoemsQuotesCommentsStatsE-BooksBiographyVideosShare on FacebookShare on Twitter
Poems by Pablo Neruda : 21 / 145 « prev. poem next poem »
Don'T Go Far Off - Poem by Pablo Neruda
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Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,
because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
Pablo Neruda
poet Pablo Neruda #5 on top 500 poets Poet's PagePoemsQuotesCommentsStatsE-BooksBiographyVideosShare on FacebookShare on Twitter
Poems by Pablo Neruda : 36 / 145 « prev. poem next poem »
I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair - Poem by Pablo Neruda
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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.
W.H. Auden
Funeral blues
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Поль Целан, перевод Ольги Седаковой
Лед, Эдем
И есть страна Утрата,
там месяц в осоке стоит,
и все, что замерзло с нами,
сверкает и глядит.
Глядит, ведь оно с глазами,
и каждый глаз – земля.
Ночь, щелок, щелок, пламя.
Глядит оно, глаз дитя.
Глядит, глядит, мы смотрим,
ты видишь меня, я гляжу.
Воскреснет лед из мертвых
скорей, чем я доскажу.
Надгробье Франсуа
Обе двери мира
остались открыты:
это ты их открыл
в предночье.
Мы слышим: они стучат и стучат
и несут неизвестное,
и несут эту зелень в твое Навсегда.
СТОЯТЬ В ТЕНИ
Стоять в тени
шрама воздушной раны.
Ни - для - кого - ничего - не - ради - стоять.
Неузнанным,
ради тебя
одного.
Со всем, что сумеет вместить это
и без
слов.
читать дальше
One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII
BY PABLO NERUDA
TRANSLATED BY MARK EISNER
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
Pablo Neruda
poet Pablo Neruda #5 on top 500 poets Poet's PagePoemsQuotesCommentsStatsE-BooksBiographyVideosShare on FacebookShare on Twitter
Poems by Pablo Neruda : 21 / 145 « prev. poem next poem »
Don'T Go Far Off - Poem by Pablo Neruda
Autoplay next poem
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,
because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
Pablo Neruda
poet Pablo Neruda #5 on top 500 poets Poet's PagePoemsQuotesCommentsStatsE-BooksBiographyVideosShare on FacebookShare on Twitter
Poems by Pablo Neruda : 36 / 145 « prev. poem next poem »
I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair - Poem by Pablo Neruda
Autoplay next video
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.
W.H. Auden
Funeral blues
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Поль Целан, перевод Ольги Седаковой
Лед, Эдем
И есть страна Утрата,
там месяц в осоке стоит,
и все, что замерзло с нами,
сверкает и глядит.
Глядит, ведь оно с глазами,
и каждый глаз – земля.
Ночь, щелок, щелок, пламя.
Глядит оно, глаз дитя.
Глядит, глядит, мы смотрим,
ты видишь меня, я гляжу.
Воскреснет лед из мертвых
скорей, чем я доскажу.
Надгробье Франсуа
Обе двери мира
остались открыты:
это ты их открыл
в предночье.
Мы слышим: они стучат и стучат
и несут неизвестное,
и несут эту зелень в твое Навсегда.
СТОЯТЬ В ТЕНИ
Стоять в тени
шрама воздушной раны.
Ни - для - кого - ничего - не - ради - стоять.
Неузнанным,
ради тебя
одного.
Со всем, что сумеет вместить это
и без
слов.