Thanks to alert reader S.C. of Nashville, TN, for the following piece of romantic verse from Pablo Neruda. Fun fact–also courtesy of S.C.–the Chilean government is currently exhuming Neruda’s remains to determine whether his death in 1973 was related to the military coup that preceded it by 5 days. Family and estate maintain he died of advanced prostate cancer. Funny, isn’t it usually the other way around? Government maintains the death of notorious political gadfly was of natural causes, family claims it was extrajudicial homicide?
Love, We’re Going Home Now
Love, we’re going home now,
Where the vines clamber over the trellis:
Even before you, the summer will arrive,
On its honeysuckle feet, in your bedroom.
Our nomadic kisses wandered over all the world:
Armenia, dollop of disinterred honey:
Ceylon, green dove: and the YangTse with its old
Old patience, dividing the day from the night.
And now, dearest, we return, across the crackling sea
Like two blind birds to their wall,
To their nest in a distant spring:
Because love cannot always fly without resting,
Our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea:
Our kisses head back home where they belong.