I could write the saddest poems tonight.

Write, for example, how “The night is full of stars,
Cold and blue they shiver in the distance.”

The wind swings round the sky and sings.

I could write the saddest poems tonight.
How I loved her. How sometimes she loved me.

On nights like this I held her in my arms.
Kissed her endlessly under a boundless sky.

How she loved me. How sometimes I loved her.
How could I not fall for those deep wide eyes?

I could write the saddest poems tonight.
To know I don’t have her. To feel I’ve lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
These words condense on my soul like dew on the grass.

What does it matter? In the end I couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars but she isn't here.

That's it. Someone sings. Far away. In the distance.
But my soul cannot rest because now she's gone.

My eyes roam, hoping to bring her closer.
My heart searches but cannot find her any more.

The same night whitens the same trees,
We were one and the same then but not now.

I don’t love her any more, but how I loved her.
My voice charmed the wind to caress her ears.

She surrenders.  To my kisses once to another now 
She surrenders her voice, her light body. Her fathomless eyes.

I don’t love her any more, but right now I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

On nights like this I held her in my arms and now
My soul will not rest because I have lost her.

Though this be the final grief she gives me,
And this the last poem I ever write her.

Translated by Peter Jukes from 'Puedo Escribir' by Pablo Neruda.

I don’t love you like you were topaz or beach rose
Or the arrow of carnations darting from a fire.
I love you like one loves some dark unknown things
Surreptitiously, between shadow and soul.

I love you like the plant that doesn’t flower but
Hides within itself the brilliance of flowers;
Thanks to your love, deep inside my flesh lives
That enthralling aroma that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, when or wherefore.
I love you unswervingly, without problem or pride;
In short. I love you because I know no other way

Other than this one, where there is no me or you,
So close that your hand on my chest is my hand ,
So close that you shut your eyes when I fall asleep.

*

No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.

Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,

sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

Translated by the Original by Peter Jukes 2009