I, Dona Sarkar, am writing a love story! If you've ever read any of my books, you know that I am notorious for not allowing my heroines to have romances! So, you see why my latest endeavour, a forbidden love story between a Iraqi refuge and an American girl who's lost her father in the war is a very interesting project for me!
I am having a lot of fun with the heroine, who is brilliant, spunky and extremely binary. For her, everything is black or white, yes or not, 0 or 1. There is no middle ground, no shades of gray. When she starts falling for a man who is nothing BUT shades of gray, her entire belief system is challenged.
One big cornerstone of the book is that the hero is a poet. His favorite poet is Pablo Neruda, a Chillean poet from the 50s and 60s. I am taking lots of liberties with use of poetry in the book, featuring works by Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Frost and of course Neruda.
Some of my favorite poems are below from Pablo Neruda...I'd love to hear some of your favorite poems. What are some that really speak to you?
XVII (I do not love you...) by Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth,
lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other waythan this:
where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
(That last paragraph makes me cry everytime I hear it)
Love by Pablo Neruda
Because of you, in gardens of blossoming
Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer
Remember your hands; how did your lips
Feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues
Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that
Have neither voice nor sight.I
have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume,
I am bound to
My vague memory of you.
I live with pain
That is like a wound;
if you touch me, you will
Make to me an irreperable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing
Vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to
Glimpse you in every window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of
Summer pain me; because of you, I again
Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
Shooting stars, falling objects.
-------------------------------------
Dona Sarkar-Mishra
http://donasarkarmishra.com
HOW TO SALSA IN A SARI
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3 comments:
Those are beautiful poems, Dona. I really am excited about this timely, touching story and can't wait to read it!!
Your excitement is contagious, Dona...can't wait to hear more about this book!
I agree with Heather, those are beautiful poems! I can't wait to read this story. Get it done fast, okay? :-)
Kelli
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