Something that I have started doing in the last year is writing poetry. I was struggling with a novel (my usual state) and decided to take a step back, to find some way of freeing up my thoughts and language. I've only written one poem in my life, in sonnet form. If you like you can search it out here in the deep recesses of my blog.
Since then, I've written a few prose poems. I'm freeing up, with the encouragement and amazingly insightful critiques of my writing group. Oh yes, I joined one of those too, and they are really special people, for whom eating and drinking is as important as writing and sharing. My kind of people.
Well, my poetry is for them right now. So here I'd like to share a poem by a true master, Pablo Neruda, inspired by my other passion, pottery. The English translation comes after the original Spanish.
Todo tu cuerpo tiene
copa o dulzura destinada a mi.
Cuando subo la mano
encuentro en cada sitio una paloma
que me buscaba, como
si te hubieran, amor, hecho de arcilla
para mis propias manos de alfarero.
Tus rodillas. tus senos,
faltan en mi como en el hueco
de una tierra sedienta
de la que desprendieron
somos completos como un solo rio,
como una sola arena.The Potter
Your whole body has
a fullness or a gentleness destined for me.
When I move my hand up
I find in each place a dove
that was seeking me, as
if they had, love, made you of clay
for my own potter's hands.
Your knees, your breasts,
are missing parts of me like the hollow
of a thirsty earth
from which they broke off
we are complete like a single river,
like a single grain of sand.