Aside from vintage fashion photos on flickr, I am addicted to staying up late. I am falling in love with the quiet, the still of the dark when everyone else is asleep and I can think straight or swirly, and feel marvelous. I do feel marvelous. I really do. And the feeling itself sustains me at this moment. I hope it lasts into tomorrow as well. I wonder if I should go to that audition. Hmmmmmmmmm. I hate making decisions.
Love, the world suddenly turns, turns color. That's the beginning of a Sylvia Plath poem. One of her least gloomy ones.
I adore Pablo Neruda. He's so romantic and whimsical and wonderful in his choices of metaphors. I Occasionally write poems I like, but the metaphors are never so beautifully strung together.
Your Feet
When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.
Pablo Neruda
2 comments:
I sometimes hate myself for loving the night so much, but I love love staying awake after everyone else is in bed, too.
It's interesting that what Neruda treasures most about his beloved's feet is their connection to the earth. In fact, he often describes the object of his desire using images from nature, especially fruits. In this sense, Neruda presents love as the natural outgrowth of one's relationship with the earth. Although he wasn't religious, this concept is similar to the Christian concept of loving the image and likeness of God in all of its manifestations (plants, animals, humans, etc.). If you really like Neruda, check out Red Poppy at www.redpoppy.net. It's a non-profit set up to create a documentary biographical film about Neruda and to translate his works into English.
Post a Comment