If You Forget Me

By Pablo Neruda

Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Gone

You said you would stay;
Never leave.
You made a promise;
A plea …
To me.

‘Don’t ever go;
Stay.
Play that song,
Sing loud;
Make me proud.’

The words won’t come
The chords are stuck.
There’s nowhere to go
Nowhere to run …

The sun has gone down;
The moon won’t rise.
The night never ends;
Where are your eyes?

So, don’t tell me to sing,
Or play that tune.
I’ve called a halt to life,
I just want to hide
Because …
You lied.

 

New Year’s Eve

By D.H.Lawrence

Photograph by Edoddridge

Photograph by Edoddridge

There are only two things now,
The great black night scooped out
And this fire-glow.

This fire-glow, the core,
And we the two ripe pips
That are held in store.

Listen, the darkness rings
As it circulates round our fire.
Take off your things.

Your shoulders, your bruised throat!
Your breasts, your nakedness!
This fiery coat!

As the darkness flickers and dips,
As the firelight falls and leaps
From your feet to your lips!

The Lily

By William Blake

The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat’ning horn:
While the Lily white [or pink] shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.

Music

Photo by  Albert Herring

Photo by Albert Herring

By Persy Bysshe Shelley

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory —
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

 

The Arrow And The Song

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

Love After Love

Derek Walcott

By Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Little One

The day
The hour
The minute
I heard her cry,
I wanted
I yearned
I desired
To hold her in my arms, forever.
She reminds me of snowdrops.
Skin fair
Hair soft
Eyes bright.
I place my hands on her
My heart races.
I am undone.
Hello, little one …

Doing

By Petronius (1st century AD) – Translation by Ben Johnson

 

Petronius (1st century AD)

Doing, a filthy pleasure is, and short;
And done, we straight repent us of the sport.
Let us not rush blindly into it,
Like lustful beasts that only know to do it,
For lust will languish and that heat decay.
But thus, thus, keeping endless holiday,
Let us together closely lie and kiss,
There is no labour, nor shame to this;
This hath pleased, doth please, and long will please;
Never can this decay, but is beginning ever.

 

 

 

A Difference Of Opinions

By Francis Duggan

A difference of opinions just means you and I
On different subjects do not see eye to eye
And who is wrong or right is not for me to say
Since we do look at life in a different way.

On any one subject all will not agree
And what’s right to you may not be right to me
If we all thought the same how boring we would be
Though ’tis said what we dislike in others in ourselves we do see.

‘Tis our individuality from others that place us apart
But what does matter most is you be kind of heart
And you do not find joy in another’s downfall
And you embrace the truth in a fair go for all.

We are all individuals for want of a better name
And even those with similar views not exactly the same
Despite a common ancestry and similar D N A
We all look at life in a different way.

Of similar things many of us may dream
But we all are quite different or so it does seem
Though we can be judged by the company we keep
The karma we sow is the karma we reap.