Friday, 15 August 2014

The light that rises from your feet to your hair

The light that rises from your feet to your hair,
the strength enfolding your delicate form,
are not mother of pearl, not chilly silver:
you are made of bread, a bread the fire adores.

The grain grew high in its harvest of you,
in good time the flour swelled;
as the dough rose, doubling your breasts,
my love was the coal waiting ready in the earth.

Oh, bread your forehead, your legs, your mouth,
bread I devour, born with the morning light,
my love, beacon-flag of the bakeries:

fire taugh you a lesson of the blood;
you learned your holiness from flour,
from bread your language and aroma. 

Pablo Neruda

6 comments:

  1. Not sure what I think of this poem Han...it is interesting...will have to read it a few more times before I decide. ;)

    Hugs and Blessings...
    Cat

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    Replies
    1. That is what's.great about poetry isn't it? Take your time Cat, in your own time.

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  2. Interesting choice of love poem, the Han.
    Why this poem?

    But I like it. It is so much Neruda, I think. Unexpectedly, yet so sensual.
    " fire taugh you a lesson of the blood;
    you learned your holiness from flour,
    from bread your language and aroma.

    This is a man who can enjoy life, that's for sure.
    I sometimes wonder if he was as good a lover with his body as he is with his spirit and his words ... lol ..
    (Come on, Mona Lisa, behaving adult !!) .. lol ..

    Thank you, Han,

    Take care,
    Mona Lisa

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    Replies
    1. I chose it for several reasons. First like Mona Lisa said, it is sooo Neruda. That man can make sensuality from cow manure. Second I like the bread references in the poem so clever and so ambiguous. Third and last, I like the first line so much.

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