111714 // :’)

“I always forget how much people mean to me, but every once in a while there are those nights where everything goes perfectly and I look around and see the friends I’m surrounded by, and I feel like I wouldn’t replace them with anything in the whole world.” 

Tonight I Can Write by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, ‘The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

This poem written by Pablo Neruda mourns the loss of romantic relationship that fell apart. He perfectly defined how hard it is to be alone or to be left by someone who became the most important person in your whole life. He showed how shattering it is to be alone. To be broken. He wrote, “Love is so short, forgetting is so long.” How sharp and hard it is to accept such fact. Such fact even oblivion can’t conquer.

Literature

Literature, in its broadest sense, is any written work; etymologically the term derives from Latin literatura/litteratura “writing formed with letters”, although some definitions include spoken or sung texts. More restrictively, it is writing that possesses literary merit, and language that foregrounds literariness, as opposed to ordinary language. Literature can be classified according to whether it is fiction or non-fiction and whether it is poetry or prose; it can be further distinguished according to major forms such as the novel, short story or drama; and works are often categorised according to historical periods or their adherence to certain aesthetic features or expectations (genre).

Taken to mean only written works, literature was first produced by some of the world’s earliest civilizations—those of Ancient Egypt and Sumeria—as early as the 4th millennium BC; taken to include spoken or sung texts, it originated even earlier, and some of the first written works may have been based on an already-existing oral tradition. As urban cultures and societies developed, there was a proliferation in the forms of literature. Developments in print technology allowed for literature to be distributed and experienced on an unprecedented scale, which has culminated in the twenty-first century in electronic literature.

A literary technique or literary device can be used by authors in order to enhance the written framework of a piece of literature, and produce specific effects. Literary techniques encompass a wide range of approaches to crafting a work: whether a work is narrated in first-person or from another perspective, whether to use a traditional linear narrative or a nonlinear narrative, or the choice of literary genre, are all examples of literary technique. They may indicate to a reader that there is a familiar structure and presentation to a work, such as a conventional murder-mystery novel; or, the author may choose to experiment with their technique to surprise the reader.

In this way, use of a technique can lead to the development of a new genre, as was the case with one of the first modern novels, Pamela by Samuel Richardson. Pamela is written as a collection of letter-writing correspondence, called “epistolary technique”; by using this technique, Pamela strengthened the tradition of the epistolary novel, a genre which had been practiced for some time already but without the same acclaim.

Literary technique is distinguished from literary device, as military strategy is distinguished from military tactics. Devices are specific constructions within the narrative that make it effective. Examples include metaphor, simile, ellipsis, narrative motifs, and allegory. Even simple word play functions as a literary device. The narrative mode may be considered a literary device, such as the use of stream-of-consciousness narrative.

Literary criticism implies a critique and evaluation of a piece of literature and, in some cases, it is used to improve a work in progress or a classical piece, as with an ongoing theatre production. Literary editors can serve a similar purpose for the authors with whom they work. There are many types of literary criticism and each can be used to critique a piece in a different way or critique a different aspect of a piece.

Hanging on the Cliff of Truth

Jason’s a fine resemblance of a pretty man, that’s particularly tall and fair. Looks notorious at the same time. He doesn’t lay his eyes to women which makes him more attractive. I sat four chairs apart from him. He looks fairer than I thought. Suddenly embarassment fills me when I noticed that I was staring at him. If my mom was here, I would be automatically be laughed at for that was not the right way a woman should act. Back when I was 16, she told me that men were born to make the first move. And for us women, she said that we should be waiting for that time while we are finding our way to be successful on our chosen career.

I always, asked her “What if that the man wouldn’t come because it’s my destiny to look for him?

and then she would laugh and say, “My lovely little Brie, you’re so sweet and beautiful. Of course he will come. You don’t need to look for him.

Yes, mom was right. I faced the board fighting the urge to look at him. One by one, our classmates arrived. Well of course he was with Mico, Kevin, and Alex. Nothing’s new today.

“No Brie, your interest on him grew more.” my thoughts said.

“Shut up.” I mumbled to myself. Then Nancy looked at me disgusted.

“What?” she said.

“No, I was just talking to myself” I said to her.

“Stop drooling about Jason.”  Sammy said.

“Worth drooling for, is he?” Nancy replied.

“Stop it! He might hear you!” I said to them.

They started giggling and I started pinching them but it only made them laugh louder. The door opened. It was Carlo, Nancy’s boyfriend. He sat behind Nancy. Then Nancy stopped laughing. Carlo and Nancy were not that showy when it comes to their relationship. They don’t kiss, hug or chat long. Nancy’s quite conservative and Carlo’s fine with that. The only thing they showed off was, holding their hands during Biology class below the table where nobody would see. Though everbody knows about, and nobody had a problem with their relationship. Suddenly, I wish I could have that kind of relationship.

After 5 minutes, the teacher came announcing that there would be no class since he has a meeting to attend to. No class means, going home. Nancy would probably go to the church with Carlo. Sammy would be helpng her mom in their laundry shop business. I don’t know what she does there, but she said that it’s something about accounting so I didn’t mind.

It was 10 o’clock in the morning and I started putting my things in my locker. I think I’ll walk for today, it wasn’t that sunny. The sky was full of clouds but it didn’t look like it would rain. Perfect, I said to myself. Home was 8 blocks away from school so the distance is clearly not a problem. I walked slowly feeling like the sidewalk was my runway.

To be continued.