Epithalamium, the poem with wrong recipient and destination
Today's mothering day in England.
Neruda, I'm sorry, but as a woman I can't read the excerpt below (the original poem is quite long!) and not think about biological motherhood; about the tenderness, frailty and beauty that lies in bringing life forth in the womb. As a matter of fact, I was disappointed when the poem revealed itself as a romantic one. Of course I didn't know the meaning of epithalamium until then, much less that the poem was part of that book, but who cares for such minor details?
So sorry, not sorry. To me, this is and always will be a motherhood poem. So here goes the version that would come to life were I your editor. Would have to re-think the title, though. :D
Do you remember when
in winter
we reached the island?
The sea raised toward us
a crown of cold.
On the walls the climbing vines
murmured letting
dark leaves fall
as we passed.
You too were a little leaf
that trembled on my chest.
Life's wind put you there.
At first I did not see you : I did not know
that you were walking with me,
until your roots
pierced my chest,
joined the threads of my blood,
spoke through my mouth,
flourished with me.
Thus was your inadvetant presence,
invisible leaf or branch,
and suddenly my heart
was filled with fruits and sounds.
You occupied the house
that darkly awaited you
and then you lit the lamp.
Do you remember, my love,
our first steps on the island?
The gray stones knew us,
the rain squalls,
the shouts of the wind in the shadow.
But the fire was
our only friend,
next to it we hugged
the sweet winter love
with four arms.