If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda

I Cannot Live With You , by Emily Dickinson

I cannot live with you 
It would be life
And life is over there 
Behind the shelf 
The sexton keeps the key to 
Putting up our lives 
His porcelain like a cup 
Discarded of the housewife 
Quaint - or broke 
A newer sevres pleases 
Old ones crack 

I could not die with you 
For one must wait 
To shut the other's gaze down 
YOU - could not 
And I? Could I stand by 
And see you freeze?
Without my right of frost    
Death's priviledge


Nor could I rise with you 
 Because your face 
Would put out Jesus'
That new grace grow plain 
And foreign on my homesick eye 
Except that you than he shone closer by 
They'd judge us - how for you 
Served heaven, 
You know , you ought to 

I could not 
 Because you saturated sight 
And I had no more eyes 
For sordid excellence 
As paradise - and were you lost?
I would be 
Though my name rang loudest 
On the heavenly fame and were you saved 
And I condemned to be where you were not 
That self were hell to me 

So we must met apart 
You there 
I here 

With just the door ajar 
That oceans are - 

And prayer 
And that white sustenance - 
Despair.            


  


      

Since I have seen your face

Since I have seen your face at the window , sweet
Love , you have thrown a spell on my heart , my feet
My heart to your face, my feet to your window still
Bear me by force , as if by alien will

O witch of beauty , O circe with innocent eyes
You have suddenly caught me fast in a net of sighs
I look at the sunlight , I see your laughing face
When I purchase a flower , it is you in your radiant grace

I have tried to save my soul alive from your snare
I will strive no more , let it flutter and perish there
I too will snare your body alive , O my dove
And teach you the torture and sweetness of love

When you have looked from the window to the trampling city
Did you think to take my heart and pay me with pity?
But you looked at one who has ever mocked at sin
And gambled with life to lose her all or win.

I will pluck you like a fluttering bird from her nest
You shall lie on love's strong knees , in his white warm breast
Afraid, with delighted lids that will not close
You shall grow white one moment, the next a rose.

Romantic Expressionism

I am a huge Community fan , and being one I'm obviously very involved in the show. Because deep down , I am very geeky and this is a show that celebrates the awkward , popular culture and general 'kookiness'. For instance , the Dungeons and Dragons episode was epic , the Pulp Fiction/ My Dinner with Andre tribute and the Remedial Chaos theory was phenomenal. 
But despite all the above , Romantic Expressionism was my all time favourite episode , Emily Dickinson once said that when she read something or saw something that moved her , she knew it was Art because it caused ripples in her psyche and she would never forget the feeling.( Unless she got Dementia in her old age)


There is a scene where the Study Group discuss the prospect of romantic relationships blossoming between them , because after all it's not exactly incestous because they are in fact not a "real family" and they can date each other. 

Community

Thus the foreshadowing ensues , and they stare each other in what I can only describe as geekly epic , Abed played by actor Danny Pudi is sensational. The prospect of  Annie and Jeff really became a cliffhanger for me after this episode , also the tweepop soundtrack in the background (By Ludwig Goransson) may have something to do with it. In my defence , no one can resist The Weepies. If that's not a romantic moment  what is?

Jeff and Annie

The prospect of a love interest ... with just a reclusive little stare and subtle smile and how similar this line sounds to an alternative rock band lyric(The Smiths , The Killers any other The" Bands") now that's stuff dreams are made of. I'm a little like Abed and I wish life was like Television with a clear script and logical love interests , and most importantly likeable leading men  because in real life dating can be awkward. 
But I have to keep hoping that I'll find that sweet spot - a stare  that expresses exactly how I feel in 3 seconds...

I'll practice my Disney Face in the meantime.

Best Quotes from Romantic Expressionism:

Annie: We haven't even kissed!
Pierce:That doesn't mean you're not having sex.

Shirley: Does anyone get specific about me?
Pierce: Check your e-mail. 
Shirley: I mark you as spam. 
Pierce: Who the hell is Pam?

Jeff:  Fine, okay. I guess we're not really family. It's more complicated than that because unlike a real family there's nothing to stop any one of us from looking at each other as sexual prospects.

In the words of Alexander Pushkin

Notoriously touchy about his honour, Pushkin fought a total of twenty-nine duels, and was fatally wounded in such an encounter with Georges-Charles de Heeckeren d'Anthès. D'Anthès, a French officer serving with the Chevalier Guard Regiment, had been attempting to seduce the poet's wife, Natalya Pushkina. Pushkin's early death at the age of 37 is still regarded as a catastrophe for Russian literature.

Many years ago , a man named Alexander Pushkin wrote a poem. He wrote it because, like any other poet he found his subject in unrequited love. I haven't read his biography , but I know he duelled and ended up dead. I don't know why that makes me laugh. No, it's not cruel because I laugh at the tragedy ... and in my mind I can picture him cursing in Russian. 

 Chyort voz'mi!
Alexander should have stuck to poetry.

Anyway unrequited love is no foreign concept to me , you care about someone and you have only good intentions for them (you think). Because like it or not  we need people selfishly . We want them to make us feel good, feel safe, wanted and gratified by societal expectations. Would we still love them if they didn't satisfy a need in us?

Have I ever been in love? I've often asked myself . I use 20% logic and 80% emotion which is tragic. When I care about someone's emotional, spiritual and intellectual progress to the point where I feel like I should exert myself in that progress and it's important to me - that is love. Or , when I fall back into that fundamental woman who cares only for taking care of her man in some lame50s housewives way and I don't feel ashamed that's love. Or when I feel like every fibre of my being is being re-wired to adjust to  new software (me 2.0).

So when you feel all the above , you care about someone and you want them to be happy and they can't return the affection. You don't get bitter , after all you love them right?

So you pull a Pushkin you don't duel , you write a terribly heartfelt poem with the line : May God Grant Another Love You So ... This is the best option , than seeing them as sad , miserable and lonely or maybe not thinking about them at all or rather seeing yourself as sad , miserable or lonely.

You say you want what is best for them but Pushkin was a martyr , I'm not convinced human beings are that selfless . I'm not convinced that Pushkin was that selfless either. Maybe the best way of putting it is - seeing it as a process rather than an immediate action.

Then again the duel sounds a bit better ...

Quick and painless.

 I loved you; even now I may confess,
Some embers of my love their fire retain;
But do not let it cause you more distress,
I do not want to sadden you again.
Hopeless and tonguetied, yet I loved you dearly
With pangs the jealous and the timid know;
So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely,
I pray God grant another love you so.