Kiss by kiss I move across your small infinity, your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages, and the genital fire transformed into delight runs through the narrow pathways of the blood until it plunges down, like a dark carnation, until it is and is no more than a flash in the night. — Pablo Neruda,… Continue reading Pablo Neruda
A soul trembling to sit by a hearth so bright, To exist again, it’s enough if I borrow from Your lips the breath of my name you murmur all night. — Stéphane Mallarmé, from “Sonnet: Pour votre chère morte, son ami…” (For your dear departed wife, his friend) 2 November 1877. Selected Poems. Translated by… Continue reading Stéphane Mallarmé
Only do not forget, if I wake up crying it’s only because in my dream I’m a lost child hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands. — Pablo Neruda, from “Sonnet XX,” 100 Love Sonnets. (University of Texas Press; Reissue edition January 1, 1986) Originally published 1959.
The trees you planted in childhood have grown too heavy. You cannot bring them along. Give yourselves to the air, to what you cannot hold. — Rainer Maria Rilke, from “Sonnet 4,” The Sonnets of Orpheus, in A Year with Rilke: Daily Readings from the Best of Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. & edited by Anita… Continue reading Rainer Maria Rilke
Step into the embrace of what you love, The wonderfully smooth coherence of live touch, Somebody’s aching voice, the held note of Your name, the only thing that matters much. — Mark Jarman, from “31,” Unholy Sonnets (Storyline Press, 2000)
Lovers in my wound’s landscape, overjoyed, can watch the reeds bend in the crossing currents, can drink from red pools in the honeyed thigh. But hurry, let’s entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed. ― Federico García Lorca, from “Sonnet or the Garden of… Continue reading Federico García Lorca
Breath, you invisible poem! Steady, sheer exchange between the cosmos and our being. Counterpoise in which I rhythmically become […] You, air, still full of places once mine, do you know me? You once my words’ sphere, leaf, and smooth rind. —Rainer Maria Rilke, first and last strophes to “Sonnet 1,” The Sonnets to Orpheus:… Continue reading Rainer Maria Rilke