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Blue Hour 5 of 6

8:45 pm

In my sky at twilight you are a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet.
My sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depths of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.

~ Pablo Neruda


  1. A little bit of sunlight trying to stay alive.

  2. I knew I would love this series, it's beautiful!

    Regarding your question:
    Pillories were used for punishment and public humiliation and every portuguese town has one on its main square but that practice was abolished in the 18th century. The pillory of Oeiras was the last to be erected in the country, as others, emblem and symbol of municipal autonomy, achieved in 1759 with the creation of village and county.

  3. I like Neruda, too. I once worked in the admin of a K-12 school and the English Master gave me a copy of a CD he used with his HSC students of the poetry of Neruda.

    Look at that line 'The lamp of my soul dyes your feet'. How wonderful to write something like that.

    Am I meant to be commenting on the photo ...

  4. JM. I loved preparing this series. After the shock of discovering the lake so deserted I realised quite quickly that the evening like was just magic.

    Julie, hee hee I KNEW you would comment on the poems. I bought a whole thick volume of Neruda some time ago but last year turned out so busy I haven't had time to savour it.


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The end

I retire from the workforce this week and to celebrate have decided to retire my current blogs and start afresh with a single consolidated blog -  My Bright Field  - to record the delights of my new life adventure. If you are interested follow me over there.  I will still be Sweet Wayfaring and collecting Royal Hotels.  The delights I discover along the way will appear together with my gardens and towns where I live.

But then the grey clouds gather

Mostly there was sunshine but sometimes rain. The long drought is still too close a memory for us to not welcome rain even on holiday. We are still at Shellharbour here, you can see the steelworks at Port Kembla in the distance. Musing: From The Storm by Theodore Roethke "Along the sea-wall, a steady sloshing of the swell, The waves not yet high, but even, Coming closer and closer upon each other; A fine fume of rain driving in from the sea, Riddling the sand, like a wide spray of buckshot, The wind from the sea and the wind from the mountain contending, Flicking the foam from the whitecaps straight upward into the darkness."