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The reasons for love - Rubem Alves The mystical and passionate agree that love does not have reasons. Angelus mystical medieval Silésius, said he is like the Rose:
pink does not have
whys
. It blossoms because blossoms.
Drummond, repeated the same thing in your poem the without-reasons for love. IS He has inspired these verses even without never have read, love things moving with the wind.
I love because love …
-without reasons …
Don't be a lover, and not always know.
My love is than I ought. Not grow than me one. If so it flutuaria the taste of your gestures. Would have reasons and explanations. If one day your gestures lover he believed were missing me as the popularity of the flower of the Earth.
Love is the State Grace and with love
has not been paid. Nothing further from the truth than the proverb that asserts that
love
love is paid. Love is not governed by the logic of trade trade. Owe nothing. Nothing I should. As the rose blooming because I love blossoms because te AMO.
Love is given free of charge, it is sown in the wind, in eclipse, falls..Love carries multiple dictionaries and regulations … Love not Exchange … Because love is love, happy and strong in itself …
Drummond, had to be intoxicated When writing these verses. Only lovers believe that love is so so without reasons..But I may not be in love (which is a shame ...), I suspect that the the heart has regulations and dictionaries, and Pascal Ludendorff me, because he who said that
the heart has reasons unknown reason itself
. It is not that heart failure reasons, but that its reasons are written in a language that We do not know. These reasons written in language strange Drummond itself knew, and asked:
how to decipher pictograms there are 10 thousand years if I crack my written inside? The truth is unknown to me she and each dawn gives me a punch.
Love is this: an unknown punch that gives me? The passionate to decipher this language is prohibited, because if he understand, will love. As in the history of beard Blue: If the port is open, shall be prohibited to happiness will be lost. It was thus the paradise lost: when the love-fragile bubble SOAP-not happy with your happiness unconscious, if left to bite by a desire to know..Love did not know that their happiness can only exist in ignorance of their reasons. Kierkegaard as absurd asking owls explanations for your love. This question they only have one answer: silence. But unless they ask simply talk about his love-without explain. And they speak for days, without stopping … But I have already said-I am not passionate. Eye for love with eyes of suspicion, eyes. I want to crack your unknown language.Cultivate unlike Drummond, hundred reasons of love … I am going to Holy Augustine, seeking its wisdom. Releio the confessions, text of an old that meditava on passionate love without being. Possibly there is more penetrating analysis of the reasons of love ever written. And defronto with me question no love could never do:
what I love when I love my God?
Imagine that a passionate did this question to his beloved:
What I love when love?
Maybe, the end of a love story.Because this question reveals a secret that no lover can support: that love loved the lover hunka something else that isn't it. In the words of Hermann Hesse
what love is always a symbol
. Hence, he concludes, inability to fix his love in any thing on Earth. Variations about the impossible question:
Te love, but it is not so much that I love. Amo mysterious another thing that I do not know, but that seems to see touch on your face. I love because in your body is another object. Your body is Laguna enchanted where reflections swim as fish fugidios … As Narciso, I am on it … At the bottom of your light Navy swim my eyes, looking … For this love, by fish amazed …
(Cecilia Meireles).But they are slippery, fish. Fleeing. Escape. Lie. Zombam of me. Swing between my fingers. I hug to hug my escape. When te have rejoice in the illusion of the possess. You are the place where I meet with This other thing, by pure grace, without reasons, fell about it, like the wind fell on the Virgin Bendita. But, being free, without reasons, similarly How can new descended from. If this happens you will love. AND my new start search …
This is the pain that no passionate supports. THE passion refuses to know that the person's face (this beloved) only suggests the obscure object of desire (missing). The person beloved is another metaphor thing.
Love begins with a metaphor,
says Milan Kundera.
Or better: love starts when a woman falls with a word in our poetic memory.
We now have the key to understanding the reasons of love: love is born, live and die by the power-sensitive poetic image that the lover thought to see in the face of the beloved …