Pablo Neruda is my Homeboy.

I was at Barnes and Noble last night after feasting on soondubu chi-gae, ojinguh bokkeum, and japchae at the local Korean restaurant with my parents friends (All the links are to Maangchi's recipes. She has some great, authentic, and easy to follow traditional Korean recipes if you are interested in checking it out.). We were all too full to go home immediately so we stopped by BnN's to walk off our feast and enjoy some coffee while catching up on the past four years we haven't seen each other. I was sitting in the poetry section and I had to buy The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and the Complete Poems of Anne Sexton. I used to own a copy of the Pablo Neruda book a long time ago; which was dogeared and had my markings in it everywhere. Sadly and gladly, I passed it along to a friend a couple years ago.

There is something special about purchasing a new book and taking it home to add to your collection. I love the way new books look, smell, and feel. The pages are crisp and clean; beckoning me to dirty them up with my illegible pencil markings and notes. I was skimming through the table of contents in hopes of finding this one sonnet from his collection of Cien Sonetos De Amor (One Hundred Love Sonnets) that I couldn't remember for the life of me. It was sonnet "XLVIII" and from the 'Midday' section. This poem reminds me of my memories and memories to come with SH. It's just so beautiful... these are the words that I wish I had sometimes to describe how I feel. Here it is:

[Note: This is copyrighted material that I am posting for enjoyment purposes only . If you want to use the poem for your blog or anything else remember to always give credit back to the original source and list the copyright information. Copyright information is listed below the poem. Thanks!]

XLVIII

Two happy lovers make one bread,
a single moon drop in the grass.
Walking, they cast two shadows that flow together;
waking they leave one sun empty in their bed.

Of all possible truths, they chose the day;
they held it, not with ropes but with aroma.
They did not shred the peace; they did not shatter words;
their happiness is a transparent tower.

The air and wine accompany the lovers.
The night delights them with its joyus petals.
They have a right to all the carnations.

Two happy lovers, without an ending, with no death,
they are born, they die, many times while they live:
they have the enternal life of the Natural.

-Pablo Neruda translated by Stephen Tapscott

Pablo Neruda (c) 1959, Fundacion Pablo Neruda (c) 1986 by The University of Texas Press, and Pablo Neruda and Fundacion Pablo Neruda (c) 2003.