Who else, but Pablo Neruda--


Other days will come, we'll all understand
the silence of plants and of planets,
and so many pure things will happen!
Violins will have the fragrance of the moon!

Perhaps the bread will be like you:
it will have your voice, your condition of wheat,
and other things will speak with your voice:
the lost horses of autumn.

Even though it's not what love prefers,
it will fill great barrels
like the antique honey of the shepherds,

and you, in the dust of my heart
(where there will be immense storerooms),
will come and go among the watermelons.

***

Still grim. But the bees are bumbling. Keep planting. Keep watering. See you tomorrow.
Among the watermelons. --L

# posted by Luis @ 1:08 PM