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Jissa George India (6/22/2005 12:49:00 AM)

I have once read a beautiful poem by Pablo Neruda. I can't remember it now except for one line ' I want to do with you what the spring does to cherry blossoms.'. If someboy out there knows please let me know.

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  • Lyuba Stevasarova (6/24/2005 8:34:00 AM) Post reply

    Must be this one, I have it only in spanish:
    (I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees)

    Juegas todo los días


    Juegas todos los días con la luz universo.
    Sutil visitadora, llegas en la flor y en el agua.
    Eres más que esta blanca cabecita que aprieto
    como un racimo entre mis manos cada día.

    A nadie te pareces desde que yo te amo.
    Déjame tenderte entre guinaldas amarillas.
    Quién escribe tu nombre con letras de humo entre las estrellas del sur?
    Ah déjame recordarte cómo eras entonces, cuando aún no existías.

    De pronto el viento aúlla y golpea mi ventana cerrada.
    El cielo es una red cuajada de peces sombríos.
    Aquí vienen a dar todos los vientos, todos.
    Se deviste la lluvia.

    Pasan huyendo los pájaros.
    El viento. El viento.
    Yo sólo puedo luchar contra la fuerza de los hombres.
    El temporal arremolina hojas oscuras
    y suelta toda las barcas que anoche amarraron al cielo.

    Tú estás aquí. Ah tú no huyes.
    Tú me responderás hasta el último grito.
    Ovíllate a mi lado como si tuvieras miedo.
    Sin embargo alguna vez corrió una sombra extraña por tus ojos.

    Ahora, ahora también, pequeña, me traes madreselvas,
    y tienes hasta los seno perfumados.
    Mientras el viento triste galopa matando mariposas
    yo te amo, y mi alegría muerde tu boca de ciruela.

    Cuánto te habrá dolido acostumbrrarte a mí,
    a mi alma sola y salvaje, a mi nombre que todos ahuyentan.
    Hemos visto arder tantas veces el lucero besándonos los ojos
    y sobre nuestras cabezas destorcerse los crepúsculos en abanicos
    girantes.

    Mis palabras llovieron sobre ti acariciándote.
    Amé desde hace tiempo tu cuerpo de nácar soleado.
    Hasta te creo dueña del universo.
    Te traeré de las montañas flores alegres, copihues,
    avellanas oscuras, y cestas silvestres de besos.
    Quiero hacer contigo
    lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos.
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    oooh, I managed to find it in English, too, here it is:

    Every Day You Play

    Every day you play with the light of the universe.
    Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
    You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
    as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.

    You are like nobody since I love you.
    Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
    Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
    Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

    Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
    The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
    Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
    The rain takes off her clothes.

    The birds go by, fleeing.
    The wind. The wind.
    I can contend only against the power of men.
    The storm whirls dark leaves
    and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

    You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
    You will answer me to the last cry.
    Cling to me as though you were frightened.
    Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.

    Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
    and even your breasts smell of it.
    While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies I love you,
    and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.
    How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
    my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
    So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
    and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.

    My words rained over you, stroking you.
    A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
    I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
    I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains,
    bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
    I want to do with you what spring does to the cherry trees.

    Greetings,

    L.

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