SONNET 89 by Pablo Neruda (1904 - 1973)
When I die, I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands
To pass their freshness over me once more:
I want to feel the softness that changed my destiny.
I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,
I want your ears still to hear the wind, I want you
to sniff the sea's aroma that we loved together,
to continue to walk on the sand we walked on.
I want what I love to continue to live,
And you whom I love and sang above everything else
To continue to flourish, full flowered:
So that you can reach everything my love directs you to,
So that my shadow can travel along in your hair,
So that everything can learn the reason for my song!
a poem which
Pablo Neruda wrote for his wife.
This was read at my father's eulogy. The chaplain said that it "might express Manuel's final words to those he loved".
That chaplain had no idea that I love Pablo Neruda.
It meant so much to me. For an hour after dad died I repeatedly closed his eyes until they finally remained closed. So much in nature reminds me of my father, my love of gardening and natural history comes directly from him. Rocks, seed pods, pine cones, flowers, bark, bugs, birds, clouds...they all speak to me of his love that continues to live in me.
I did not understand "the
light and the
wheat" in the 2nd line and made some calls to universities' departments of
Spanish literature to ask for some
interpretation. After 2 sets of
voice mail mazes I got through to a real person. She kindly read the original Spanish to me and consulted with another professor. She explained that Neruda often compared
women to
nature in his many
love poems and in this one a
direct translation is difficult but it seems to mean he wants the feeling of the daily love and nurturing he felt from his wife one final time. Wheat is white (light) and a part of the daily life - a
staple food, like
bread.
Although I have not seen this book as my copy of this sonnet came in the form of a copy of the eulogy given to me by the chaplain at my father's funeral, I have looked about a bit and find it was published in the 1950s as part of a book called "100 Love Sonnets / Cien Sonetos De Amor" by Pablo Neruda, and translated by Stephen Tapscott. Amazon.com has a full index of that book and about 15 sample pages. It lists "When I die, I want your hands on my eyes" as being on page 189. It may also be published elsewhere in book form; I don't know. It is certainly widely reproduced on the net.
Only a few weeks after my father's
burial my dear
friend Marian died suddenly due to complications from
Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. I read this poem at her
memorial service.
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