| |
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.
Pablo Neruda
Read poems about / on: baby, autumn, moon, work, tree, rain, fire, sky, time, life, sonnet
|
|
User Rating: |
|
7.3
/10
(23 votes) |
|
|
|
Free
Poetry E-Book:
E-mail this poem to e friend