60: sonnet LXV
transl. Stephen Tapscott
Matilde, where are you? Down here I noticed,
under my necktie and just above my heart,
a certain pang of grief between the ribs,
you were gone that quickly.
I needed the light of your energy,
I looked around, devouring hope.
I watched the void without you that is like a house,
nothing left but tragic windows.
Out of sheer taciturnity the ceiling listens
to the fall of the ancient leafless rain,
to feathers, to whatever the night imprisoned;
so I wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache.
– Pablo Neruda
About stephemeraI drink too much unsweetened iced tea, sleep too little and laugh too loud, all while creating something new every day and trying to remember there is beauty in everything.
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