and now for a poem

DRUNK AS DRUNK

Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made out of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it -- our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal --
Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.

Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowzy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.

- Pablo Neruda (transl. by W.S. Merwin)

"I felt happy inside the songs...where sorrow wasn't playful, laughter wasn't mocking, love wasn't laughable, and hate wasn't shy, where people love with all their body and soul...where people dance for joy and leap into the Danube in devastation"

- Milan Kundera, The Joke