so now this is random

they say and "we" say that july and august are love months. although there is none to share these overflowing emotions that we get from a handful of heart-melting and subtle lines of great poets with, my friends and i, who are so consumed with the potion of staggering words, found a way to at least size them down into a cupped-hand size, say, to sublime and scale them into something bearable by humans...


"if a woman submits herself to a man with whom she does not feel anything, then there must be a pay for that because she suddenly turned herself into a prostitute..."


"love has its destructive nature..."


"Let me come to be still in your silence
And let me talk to you with your silence
That is bright as a lamp
Simple, as a ring
You are like the night
With its stillness and constellations
Your silence is that of a star As remote and candid"
-- from I Like For You To Be Still; Pablo Neruda
(**it is only in your silence that you can say so much....)


"love is like a strong horse for those who cannot handle it..."


"In that book which is
My memory...
On the first page
That is the chapter when I first met you
Appear the words...
Here begins a new life."
--from La Vita Nuova; Dante Alighieri


"love is not situated in the heart, for it decays when you die..."


"To me he seems a peer of the gods, the man who sits facing
you and hears your sweet voice
and lovely laughter; it flutters my heart in my breast. When I see you
only for a moment, I cannot speak;
my tongue is broken, a subtle fire runs under my skin; my eyes cannot
see, my ears hum;
cold sweat pours off me; shivering grips me all over; I am paler than
grass; I seem near to dying;
but all must be endured..."
--Sappho


"because that is the nature of love, because one walks alone
through the ruins of the heart, because the young must sleep

with their eyes open, because the angels tremble
from so much beauty, because memory moves in orbits

of absence, because she holds her hands out in the rain,
and rain remembers nothing, not even how it became itself."
--from Las Ruinas del Corazon; Mario Eric Gamalinda


and again, I also could not find any way to cut these lines short:

"Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, "The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance."

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, and sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her."
--Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines; Pablo Neruda