Heaven knows I'm miserable now

Heaven knows I'm miserable now- The Smiths

In my life

Why do I give valuable time

To people who don't care if I live or die

Saddest Poem

(Apologies for the absence.  School has been extremely busy; especially for a freshmen as myself, I have been adjusting and getting used to college life.  Other life troubles also contribute to the m.i.a but it's all good.  Life is not bad. I will try to queue up more posts during Winter break. Promise.)

Saddest Poem

by Pablo Neruda

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. 

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,

and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance." 

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. 

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. 

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.

I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. 

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.

How could I not have loved her large, still eyes? 

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her. 

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.

And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass. 

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.

The night is full of stars and she is not with me. 

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.

My soul is lost without her. 

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.

My heart searches for her and she is not with me. 

The same night that whitens the same trees.

We, we who were, we are the same no longer. 

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.

My voice searched the wind to touch her ear. 

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once

belonged to my kisses.

Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes. 

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.

Love is so short and oblivion so long. 

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,

my soul is lost without her. 

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,

and this may be the last poem I write for her. 

'I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.' This poem is so sad and so beautiful.  It contains so much emotions, so much memories and feelings of lost love.  It is so honest, brave and sacrificial.  And I think, the most powerful of all is the acceptance at the end.  The imageries of the sky and the stars, of nighttime and of nature complemented one another perfectly and paint exquisite and calming images of memories of the past and unsalvaged love.

Call me selfish, but I do wish I could find a man that feels such emotions for me.  Or perhaps it will be the other way round.  I would write poems as such, filled with hurt and beauty, for the man that would once hold me.  I wish when the time comes, when pain hits, I could produce elegance as such, and through my words, my lost love would live forever.