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Original Title: Cien sonetos de amor Author: Pablo Neruda Edition Language: English ISBN10: 0292760280 ISBN13: 9780292760288 Pages: 232 Published: 1959

Description: When I got tired of copying love poems from the Chinese and Japanese into urgent, wretched note cards to lovers who were unattainable (and I'm a genius at finding unattainable characters to pine after)... that's when I turned to Pablo Neruda. He's even better than Asian poets at crafting throbbing, passionate, wounded phrases of affection: I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrence risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. and: No one can stop the river of your hands, your eyes and their sleepiness, my dearest. You are the trembling of time, which passes between the vertical light and the darkening sky. and: From the stormy archipelagoes I brought my windy accordian, waves of crazy rain, the habitual slowness of natural things: they made up my wild heart. Imagine for a moment being the unsuspecting recipient of such transcribed scribblings. You thought you were just getting a nice shag, and now you're getting Neruda by notecard, shoved into the mail slot of your

door, or left under your windshield wiper at the parking garage. At least I never called in the middle of the night and left Neruda recitations on the answering machine. Okay, maybe I did once. But there had been a great deal of tequila involved. Not everything he wrote was tortured. Some of it was just beautiful: I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;... ...so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. and: because love cannot always fly without resting, our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea: our kisses head back home where they belong. and: By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness Luckily I got over the phase where I copied tragic poetry into notecards to express my unrequited passions. Now I've moved on to mix CDs. I swear, I'm a caricature even of myself. Emo mommy. Pardon me while I don a pirate blouse and walk moodily across the moors on a stormy day. Pablo, however, is lovely.