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yes, larry i did make "gaya" with your writing format. hehehe

well, what can i say, we all feel like everyday is a Finals exam day. So tiring.

I saw Gengkuks yesterday at Coffee indulgence. You look very fine my dear.

Two people in our class in SPECIAL PROCEEDINGS were called "STUPID" by Dean Ortega. The whole class was called "DISGUSTING". Another was accused of having "NO LOGIC." And that we should change our Study habits. I feel for you my dear quasi-compañeros. I was called STUPID once by Atty. Fernandez.

Sorry Your Honor, estudyante lang kame. Kayo, kabisado niyo na yan since before the time of Senator Vicente Sotto I... which is around the 1960's, even before the Rules of Court have been revised several times. Your 'prolific' client with children all over the world. (I have no intentions of defaming the late Senator, I'm just quoting a direct testimony from a credible person). Besides, hindi lang kayo professor namin.

Kennelyn has this MP3s of Love Sonnets from 'Il Postino' and from Pablo Neruda. An alternative to listening to music. Poetry reading should be played at Starbucks sometimes. And yes, THE ODE TO A BEAUTIFUL NUDE is sensually delightful. It kinda turns me on. Hahaha.

Of course, the true delight was when I finally heard the Emilio Estevez version of "Puedo Escribir los versos." in English, of course. My most favorite Pablo Neruda poem of all time... aside from "I do not love you as though you were the salt-rose topaz..."

In fact, I'll post some of my faves here right now

I Like For You To Be Still

I like for you to be still:

I as though you were absent,

and you do not hear me far away and my 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 with 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 are still 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 you 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 its stillness and constellations.

Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.

I like for you to be still: it is 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.

Sonnet 17

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz

or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:

I love you as certain dark things are loved,

secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and

carries

hidden within itself the light of those flowers,

and thanks to your love, darkly in my body

lives the dense fragrance that rises from the

earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from

where,

I love you simply, without problems or pride:

I love you in this way because I don't know any

other way of loving

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.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. .

Escribir, por ejemplo: "La noche está estrellada, y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos". .

El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta. .

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.

Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso. .

En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos.

¡La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito! .

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.

¡Como no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos! .

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.

Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido, .

Oír la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.

Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío. .

Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.

La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo. .

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.

Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. .

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.

Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo. .

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.

Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos. .

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise!

Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído. .

De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.

Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos. .

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.

Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido. .

Porque en noches como ésta, la tuve entre mis brazos,

mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa,

y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.