Day 8's prompt is to rewrite a famous poem. Okay, challenge accepted!This is like me preparing a meal (which is indeed disastrous as I'm culinary challenged). I'm going to rewrite one of Pablo Neruda's poems, Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Line. This is Neruda's poem:
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 sometimes, and 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 searches for 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 inifinite 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 sould 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.
-Pablo Neruda-
This is my version:
Tonight I can sing the saddest tune.
I hold my pen and croon,
Tonight I can sing the saddest tune.
With my shattered hope and the pale moonlight,
I croon in the somber night.
The immense night is without the shivering stars,
and there is nothing but my bleeding scars.
Sometimes, Hope can tear you apart,
Just what it did to my fragile heart.
The man I love is distant and cold,
And indeed I am not his precious gold.
He fills my intricate void, my remedy, my salve,
How can you love and miss someone you never have?
Yet, I still pray for his well-being
and I never stop praying.
I still love him, I do
By protecting her too.
Tonight I can sing the saddest tune.
I hold my pen and croon.
With my shattered hope and the pale moonlight,
I croon in the somber night.
Perhaps, this is not my last time
I sing for him with my broken rhyme.
-Nuruljannah-
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