Sunday, 1 July 2012

YOUR Pablo Neruda

My love, in the darkest
hour you laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.

Next tot the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,

Laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.

 ~ ♥ Pablo Neruda ♥

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