I love that you are silent throughout the poem. Neruda s

Yes, love makes people fearless, and in the same way, love makes people gain and lose. What kind of love is deeper and what kind of love is shallower, Boccaccio completed his test paper with logical arguments, and Neruda also caught the answer with the tentacles of his heart. One is just talk on paper, more banter than affectionate; One loves, sings, and sensitively perceives what he loves more.

Such a love is clumsy even to a poet, and he begs her to treat him as air, "to make me silent in your silence"; Because she was so rich and "filled my soul" that he became unable to exist, he could only pretend that she did not exist. It is only when she seems to be absent that he can emerge on the surface of things—as in the apparent silence—"Let me speak to you through your silence." Éluya sings about her lover "She has the shape of my palm, she has the color of my eyes", Bian Zhilin asks for the "shape of her arms" of her lover, Shu Ting has to stand side by side with the oak tree, Lu Yun self-righteously writes for others, "The eyes are clear and the ears are beautiful", and Neruda only dares to equate himself with "your silence", so slight that "you listen to me from a distance, but my voice can't touch you" - you can see me very clearly, my whole thing is love for you, just like Zhang Ailing said" She became very low, very low, low to the dust"; But I can't see you clearly, as if no matter how high your head is, you can only see one spiral arm of the Milky Way, "You are like the night, with silence and stars."

You listen to me from afar, but my voice cannot reach you.

It's as if your eyes have flown away, like a kiss, which is to shut your mouth.

Just as all things fill my soul, you emerge from all things and fill my soul.

You are like my soul, a butterfly of dreams. You are like the word melancholy.

I like that you are silent, as if you are gone.

You sound like you're lamenting, a butterfly that screams like a dove.

You hear me from afar, and my voice can't reach you :

Let me be silent in your silence.

And let me speak to you through your silence, your silence is as bright as a lamp, as simple as a ring, and you are like the night, with loneliness and stars.

Your silence is the silence of the stars, distant and bright.

I like that you are silent, as if you have disappeared, distant and sad, as if you are dead.

At that time, a word, a smile, was enough.

And I'm going to be happy, happy because it's not real.

"Homesickness> In the afterglow.

Nostalgia as a child is a small stamp.

I'm on this end. Mother is over there.

Growing up, nostalgia is a narrow ticket.

I'm on this end. The bride is on that end.

Later, nostalgia is a low grave.

I'm out there. Mother is inside.

And now nostalgia is a shallow strait.

I'm on this end. The continent is on that end.

"Epiphany".

The four walls of the residence are intact.

Where are the cracks?

Or you can only watch the epiphany at night.

Bright light filled the room.

In the moment of loneliness and anxiety, it is like a wrinkled petal flowing.

Epiphany blooms, adjacent to dreams.

I am like a blind man at this moment, rubbing the broken places, and drinking water for a living.

Don't cry anymore, Fountain of Sorrow (Norton).

Fountain of sorrow, don't weep.

Why are you flowing so fast?

You don't see the sun of heaven melting the snow-capped mountains so gently?

But my sun, her angelic eyes, cannot see your tears...

Already asleep, my sun, softly, softly sleeping.

Sleep gives you rest and gives you peace.

Don't you see the sun sinking in the west, and tomorrow morning will rise with a smile?

Sleep, sleep, sad eyes, don't melt in crying.

She had slept, softly, softly.