Sonnet XVII -- Susan Watkins

(Reflection on Outside Reading)

I do not love you as if you were salt rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

-- Sonnet XVII, Pablo Neruda (translated by Steven Tapscott)


This is one of my favorite poems. It is even more beautiful in the original Spanish, but since the majority of readers here are not fluent I thought the English would be more appropriate. This translation, furthermore, is excellent.

It's hard for me to say why this poem speaks to me so deeply. I first read this my freshman year of high school and immediately became enthralled by Neruda and his work. It was one of the first times I can remember falling in love with the sound of poetry. I had not read much poetry before at all, focusing much more on prose literature, and so the concept of words sounding so painfully beautiful when read aloud had never occurred to me. I had never thought of written text as merely a recording medium for pieces meant to be spoken, and so this poem was the beginning of that revelation for me.

There is so much here. Neruda does not speak in platitudes of love, making empty promises to his beloved or reciting a thousand overused compliments. His imagery is strange and intimate, amazingly relevant even though it is so far from our ideas of "love symbols." My connection with the meaning behind this poem seems so much deeper than I've ever had before, so much more on an intuitive level than abstract. I think this is because Neruda is not trying to explain anything, merely give a voice to something far beyond words.

It's also amazing because Neruda seems to understand human sexuality so well. This poem, suggestive and intimate, is still perfectly tasteful and meaningful. His other poetry, even when more graphic, maintains this reverence for human sexuality and makes it clear that Neruda sees the overall themes of sexuality and not the base animal urges. His line "so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, that your eyes close as I fall asleep" suggests a connection so much deeper and profound than any merely physical bond that all else seems suddenly irrelevant. He seems to suggest that sex is a vehicle for love, not the object of love.

I'd definitely recommend Neruda's poetry to other readers-- it is easy to find English translations (Tapscott's are great) but I would really recommend getting Tapscott's side-by-side "100 Love Sonnets / Cien Sonetos de Amor" even for non-Spanish speakers because just the syllables of the original texts are so beautiful themselves.