Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines

What does love mean to you?

There is a language I am still foreign to and that language is love. I can't say for sure if I have ever truly loved someone or not although I have shared laughter and passion with very few in my past.

To truly love someone in the ways I read from poets, poets like the great Pablo Neruda has me wondering if I have ever actually had that deep intense love.

So what does love mean to you?

Of course I believe love can very blissful and euphoric, but to some it seems like it's the cruelest thing in the world. To have something that makes your heart beat to a different rhythm; makes you smile with pure joy, and always walking on the moon when you think of that special someone you share this involuntary craving for.

The ancient Greeks once called love "the madness of the gods." Quite interesting huh?

It seems to me that love is always at its best in the beginning of the relationship. Craving your partners affection, skin, and laughter. Feeling like everything in the world has finally fallen into its correct prospective.

“Love is blind and lovers cannot see.” A quote by Shakespeare that forever stuck with me.

Aristotle said, “Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.”

Two bodies in love can create immense beauty; being on the same wave length if you would, sharing the same frequencies. Following the symphony that the hearts create with the passion and desire for one another.

In this case, it has brought sadness and pain to a great man.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Pablo Neruda

https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tonight-i-can-write-the-saddest-lines/