Pablo Neruda

(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973 / Parral / Chile)

Sonnet Viii - Poem by Pablo Neruda

If your eyes were not the color of the moon,
of a day full [here, interrupted by the baby waking -- continued about 26
hours later ]
of a day full of clay, and work, and fire,
if even held-in you did not move in agile grace like the air,
if you were not an amber week,

not the yellow moment
when autumn climbs up through the vines;
if you were not that bread the fragrant moon
kneads, sprinkling its flour across the sky,

oh, my dearest, I could not love you so!
But when I hold you I hold everything that is --
sand, time, the tree of the rain,

everything is alive so that I can be alive:
without moving I can see it all:
in your life I see everything that lives.


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Read poems about / on: baby, autumn, moon, work, tree, rain, fire, sky, time, life, sonnet



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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