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Writings of the Heart


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Two Happy Lovers

by Pablo Neruda

 

Two happy lovers make one bread,

a single moon drop in the grass.

Walking, they cast two shadows that flow together;

waking, they leave one sun empty in their bed.

 

Of all the possible truths, they chose the day;

they held it, not with ropes but with an aroma.

They did not shred the peace; they did not shatter words;

their happiness is a transparent tower.

 

The air and wine accompany the lovers.

The night delights them with its joyous petals.

They have a right to all the carnations.

 

Two happy lovers, without an ending, with no death,

they are born, they die, many times while they live:

they have the eternal life of the Natural.

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  • 2 weeks later...

A time when life was once less bitter,

Twice when there was happiness,

Countless things enjoyed, felt and known.

 

Should have known, wasn’t forever

Should have stopped, then and there

Ceased time, world’s ups and downs

Screamed at the birds that sing

Cowered from the sun’s brightness

Screeched to a halt, motor still running.

Should have said goodnight when it was

Still bright.

 

Borrowed words uttered by heroes

Copied lines, flew to the moon.

Listened to unspoken words

Saw undone acts, felt painless pains

Tasted tasteless meals and

Smelled scentless flowers.

 

Though care was there, love around

Words uttered, all seemed empty.

Once possessed but all in vain.

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