I like for you to be still

I like for you to be still--Pablo Neruda

I like for you to be still，it is as though you were absent
and you hear me from far away，and you voice does not touch you

It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth
As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled my soul
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream
and you are like the word Melancholy
I like for you to be still， and you seem far away
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove
And you hear me from far away and my voice does not reach you
Let me come to be still in your silence
And let me talk to you with your silence
that is bright as a lamp,simple as a ring
You are like the night, with it's stillness and constellations
Your silence is that of a star, as remove and candid
I like for you to be still， it is as though you were absent
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died
One word then,one smile,is enough
And I am happy, happy that it's not true.

This is one of my favorite poems. I don't know how to describe my feeling about it using words. Maybe I can't, because languages are created by people， not innate. Its limitation determines that it can't be used to describe everything. However, every poem that move my heart is not just the words that be created. It's more like a kind of mood.
    
       I like pure words that haven't been disturbed by the outside world. It is like a peaceful place that only exists in the depth of people's souls.

     

       When people read this poem at the first time, they probably know this is a poem about love. However in my point of view,  in addition to talking about love, Neruda is confiding in himself. Maybe he doesn't have a lover, he is comforting himself in someone's perspective. Actually we can say the poet is lonely, he just love himself.

       This kind of love is not the same as what we generally know. It's not friendship or family bond either. It's the nature in everyone's blood. After some people call it selfishness, many of us hide it deeply. Neruda still has a pure heart so he is willing to bare the  emotion to us through this poem.