{"id":2009,"date":"2010-01-11T16:30:10","date_gmt":"2010-01-11T16:30:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/theothersideofeverything.com\/flip\/2010\/01\/when-i-grow-up-i-want-to-be-pablo-neruda\/"},"modified":"2010-01-11T16:30:10","modified_gmt":"2010-01-11T16:30:10","slug":"when-i-grow-up-i-want-to-be-pablo-neruda","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/theothersideofeverything.com\/flip\/2010\/01\/when-i-grow-up-i-want-to-be-pablo-neruda\/","title":{"rendered":"When I Grow Up, I Want To Be Pablo Neruda"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class='posterous_autopost'>\n<div><b>Sonnet XVII<\/b><\/p>\n<p \/>  I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,<br \/> or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.<br \/> I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,<br \/> in secret, between the shadow and the soul.<\/p>\n<p \/>  I love you as the plant that never blooms<br \/> but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;<br \/> thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,<br \/> risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.<\/p>\n<p \/>  I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.<br \/> I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;<br \/> so I love you because I know no other way<\/p>\n<p \/>  than this: where I does not exist, nor you,<br \/> so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,<br \/> so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. <\/div>\n<div><i>&#8211; Pablo Neruda<\/i><\/div>\n<p \/>\n<div><a href=\"http:\/\/www.flickr.com\/photos\/deekster\/2928808858\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"posterous_download_image\" src=\"http:\/\/farm4.static.flickr.com\/3074\/2928808858_0a41118bf2.jpg\" border=\"0\" height=\"500\" width=\"375\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p \/>\n<div>(recently found <a href=\"http:\/\/informedfire.blogspot.com\/2009\/04\/pablo-neruda-poem.html\">here<\/a>)<\/div>\n<p style=\"font-size: 10px;\">  <a href=\"http:\/\/posterous.com\">Posted via email<\/a>   from <a href=\"http:\/\/deanwhitbread.co.uk\/when-i-grow-up-i-want-to-be-pablo-neruda\">Dean Whitbread<\/a>  <\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Sonnet XVII I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":126,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[780],"class_list":["post-2009","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-funky-original","tag-funky-original"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/theothersideofeverything.com\/flip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2009","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/theothersideofeverything.com\/flip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/theothersideofeverything.com\/flip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theothersideofeverything.com\/flip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/126"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theothersideofeverything.com\/flip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2009"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/theothersideofeverything.com\/flip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2009\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/theothersideofeverything.com\/flip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2009"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theothersideofeverything.com\/flip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2009"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theothersideofeverything.com\/flip\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2009"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}