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Blog archive

March 2025

February 2025

Commemorating Black History Month 2025
02/28/2025

Transportation at the Pasadena Village
02/28/2025

A Look at Proposition 19
02/27/2025

Behind the Scenes: Understanding the Pasadena Village Board and Its Role
02/27/2025

Beyond and Within the Village: The Power of One
02/27/2025

Celebrating Black Voices
02/27/2025

Creatively Supporting Our Village Community
02/27/2025

Decluttering: More Than The Name Implies
02/27/2025

Hidden Gems of Forest Lawn Museum
02/27/2025

LA River Walk
02/27/2025

Message from the President
02/27/2025

Phoenix Rising
02/27/2025

1619 Conversations with West African Art
02/25/2025

The Party Line
02/24/2025

Status - Feb 20, 2025
02/20/2025

Bluebird by Charles Bukowski
02/17/2025

Dreams by Langston Hughes
02/17/2025

Haiku - Four by Fritzie
02/17/2025

Haikus - Nine by Virginia
02/17/2025

Wind and Fire
02/17/2025

Partnerships Amplify Relief Efforts
02/07/2025

Another Community Giving Back
02/05/2025

Diary of Disaster Response
02/05/2025

Eaton Fire: A Community United in Loss and Recovery
02/05/2025

Healing Powers of Creative Energy
02/05/2025

Living the Mission
02/05/2025

Message from the President: Honoring Black History Month
02/05/2025

Surviving and Thriving: Elder Health Considerations After the Fires
02/05/2025

Treasure Hunting in The Ashes
02/05/2025

Villager's Stories
02/05/2025

A Beginning of Healing
02/03/2025

Hectic Evacuation From Eaton Canyon Fire
02/02/2025

Hurricanes and Fires are Different Monsters
02/02/2025

January 2025

Poem 20 by Pablo Neruda

By Jim Hendrick
Posted: 08/13/2024
Tags:

I can write the saddest verses of all tonight.

 

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,

and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

 

The Nightwind whirls in the sky and sings.

 

I can write the saddest verses of all tonight.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

 

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.

I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

 

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.

How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

 

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

 

To hear the immense night, more immense without

Her.

And the poem falls to the soul is due to grass.

 

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.

The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

 

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.

My soul is lost without her.

 

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.

My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

 

The same night that whitens the same trees.

We, we were, we are the same no longer.

 

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.

My voice searched the wind to touch her ear

 

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she 

Once

Belonged To my kisses.

Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

 

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.

Love is so short and oblivion so long

 

Because on nights like this, I held her to my arms

My soul is lost without her.

 

Although this may be the last pain she causes me

And these may be the last verses I write for her.

 

😀 Dan Golden brought this poem and read it in English and Spanish at A Poetry Gathering  

 

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