From travels and sorrows

"From travels and sorrows I returned, my love,
to your voice, to your hand flying on the guitar,
to the fire that with kisses interrupts the Fall,
to the circling of the night in the sky.

For all men I ask for bread and kingdom,
I ask for land for the farmer without fortune,
let no one expect respite from my blood or my song.

But I cannot quit your love without dying.

So play the waltz of the serene moon,
the barcarole in the water of the guitar,
until my head lolls dreaming:

that all the sleeplessness in my life weaved
this arbour where your hand lives and flies
watching over night of the sleeping traveller."

~ Pablo Neruda ~

Thanks to a Swiss friend, Ilse, who shared this poem at Facebook.


(c) May 2020.  Tel. Leaves from my Musings. All rights reserved.