This poem by Pablo Neruda is about his longing for her. He misses her and looks for her in different corners of his memory, but cannot find her. He loves her so much that he cannot get over her. But he is in pain because everything around him reminds him of her. He finds her beauty in everything around him, but he cannot find her. Though his life is surrounded by chances and possibilities, he still longs for her, for her beauty.
Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands; how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks, the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
While he tries to remember her features, he realizes that he lost memory of her hands, the touch of her lips on his, and the feel of their kisses. Thoughts of her have grown his fascination for the monotonous statues in the parks. It’s as if he is trying to recreate her image form the white and pure statues in the parks; and he is able to appreciate them more because of this.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.
He says that he has forgotten her voice and her eyes. It expresses an evading of what is truly beautiful. Her eyes – a distinctive feature that would help him remember her better, if he could only remember them- their color, shape, size. Her voice – bright and welcoming that would make him feel at ease. She is like a flower’s to him, a rich and lingering memory that he has been trying to set aside. Whatever the reason for her absence, he loved her too much, and now he is wounded, bound to a fleeting memory of her. In fact, if she got close to him now, it would mean a new kind of pain.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting stars, falling objects.
He recalls the way she touched him, and when he thinks of it a certain kind of loneliness creeps. His love and longing for her is so profoundly deep, that it does nothing but bring him gloominess and desolation. He expresses that he has forgotten her love for him, but she is still a part of his memories. H cannot get over her. He cannot go away from the beautiful memory that she has dug in his heart.
He concludes by expressing that even within the misery of longing for her and the memories of her that pain him, there is also passion and beauty.
