Tonight I can write the saddest lines


There is a familiar saying that it is better to have love and lost than never to have loved at all.I am not sure that this is so true in the particular, I think it depends on the sort of love that you have had and lost, and how it affected you. But in general, then the advice is sound, living a fulfilling life requires being able to let go of past hurts and take the chance on loving again with all your heart.
Perhaps it is worth asking why we continue to love in the full knowledge that in loving someone we can get hurt again?I think that it is because we recognise that a large part of meaning in life stems from our relationships to others and in particular from finding someone who we can love and accept as they are, and who will love us and accept us in return.
This poem “Tonight I can write the saddest lines” by Pablo Neruda is on reflection the saddest poem that I have read.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wDOioi5Jt8

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, ‘The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.

The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tries to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

 

 

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