I am writing a poem for my final paper in my Classics class. It is a very bad poem, because I am a silly little girl, that doesn't know her own will, or power, or agency in this world, and the Pandora I'm trying to project, on the other hand, is. People say you should write what you know, but I am ignoring that I suppose ... which is why it is a terrible poem.
I gave up working on it for the evening, and read some of my favourite Neruda. And its nice that now, I can even understand it in Spanish, which is something I remember telling a teacher who wrote my recommendation that I wanted to be able to do. Its nice to know I've achieved some goals.
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.
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