3 August 2013

9:00 AM

3 August 2013

9:00 AM

I am not jealous.

If you arrived
with a man on your back,
or a hundred men
hanging in the rigging of your hair,
or a thousand men
sleeping on the soft mound of your belly,
if you were a river
filled with drowned men
met by the furious sea
foaming at its mouth,
by eternal weather –

if you arrived with them all
where I wait for you,
I would not be jealous.
We will always be alone.
We will always be, you and I,
alone on this earth
to begin life.

After Neruda

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  • mikewaller

    Two points:

    – if you can persuade yourself of that, you could persuade yourself of anything.

    – why is the Spectator’s choice of poetry so far out of kilter with its world view in general?