I read Pablo Neruda’s book of poems Twenty Poems of Love and a Song of Despair yesterday at lunch. I love Neruda’s poetry. My favorite poem of his, one of his more famous, is Sonnet XVII (I do not love you). After reading his most famous collection of poetry yesterday, I felt like sharing one that really stood out to me. No analysis; just the poem itself.
So That You Will Hear Me
So that you will hear me
my words
sometimes grow thin
as the tracks of the gulls on the beaches.
Necklace, drunken bell
for your hands as smooth as grapes.
And I watch my words from a long way off.
They are more yours than mine.
They climb on my old suffering ivy.
It climbs the same way on damp walls.
You are to blame for this cruel sport.
They are fleeing from my dark lair.
You fill everything, you fill everything.
Before you, they are peopled in the solitude that you occupy,
and they are more used to my sadness than you are.
Now I want to make them say what I want to say to you
and to make you hear as I wasn’t you to hear me.
The winds of anguish still hauls on them as usual.
Sometimes hurricanes of dreams still knock them over.
You listen to other voices in my painful voice
Lament of old mouths, blood of old supplications.
Leave me, companion. Don’t forsake me. Follow me.
Follow me, companion, on this wave of anguish.
But my words become stained with your love.
You occupy everything, you occupy everything.
I am making them into an endless necklace
for your white hands, smooth as grapes.
