hopeless romantic

Oh yes, you can break into a laughing fit. But I would proudly admit that I am easily swept away by poetic verses and a few gentlemanly acts. And my man almost always manages to hit the right spot when it comes to this department.

When I last checked my friendster account, I was greeted by a very nice (and yeah, mushy and cheesy) poem by Pablo Neruda that Ed sent me as a comment. Here goes…

In My Sky At Twilight

In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon’s
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.

Pablo Neruda