Fire and IceI feel you as a wave of deepest painAnd you and I crash forcefully on shoresOf midnight islands; sometimes summer rainAnd other times the icy tide takes o’er.The heat pounds down in fire and boiling bloodTouching mountains, towers, rivers full.The ice then hisses in, a frigid flood,And I’m as tough as stone and cold and dull.I feel you in the night and long for wavesCrashing, warm, with starlight skies aboveTo break through stone to find what my heart cravesThough lips cannot confess or profess love.I feel you while I long for freedom yet;And you fall through the ice of cold regret.
It Feels Like it Will Never EndWhere goes the pain that flows in rivers fullOf anguish down the mountainside of fleshCarrying the crushed and broken hullsOf ships that sailed once between the breasts?The pain, the blackest soot of washed out firesMuddies rivers deep, so much flows out.Is the water black or red? InquireIf you should dare, if you would bring aboutThe wrath and tangled torment of the heartWhence flow the rivers. It knows not indeedWhich color carves the mountainside apartNor which is deepest; both course fast and bleed.Now shall the river flow with blood or tears?One offers death, the other, anguished years.
Nothing Can Keep From SpinningAs in a dream, as if waking-I know not which is the former,but since the first I saw your faceit mattered not if one were other.Why should it matter whether ifthe sun's round the earth revolvingor if Copernicus was right,for nothing can keep from spinning.
UntitledNeruda must wake early every dayto watch Mathilde prepare the morning meal,and serenade the osprey with an ode;this sunrise: golden wax on copper roofs,a celestial tiger now leaping forth:some glorious kind of divinity.
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