Pablo Neruda's poetry is voluptuous and remarkably pure at the same time--it's an inspiration to me as a poet. People who perhaps "do not like poetry" may find their minds changed by reading Neruda... I wanted to share this poem (translated by Stephen Mitchell) because I love it so much:
Love Sonnet XII
Full woman, fleshy apple, hot moon,
thick smell of seaweed, crushed mud and light,
what obscure brilliance opens between your columns?
What ancient night does a man touch with his senses?
Loving is a journey with water and stars,
with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour:
loving is a clash of lightning-bolts
and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey.
Kiss by kiss I move across your small infinity,
your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages,
and the genital fire transformed into delight
runs through the narrow pathways of the blood
until it plunges down, like a dark carnation,
until it is and is no more than a flash in the night.
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