Twenty Love Poems And A Song Of Despair

by Pablo Neruda

And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering like ivy .

I am the one without hope, the word without echoes, he who lost everything and he who had everything.

But you, cloudless girl, question of smoke, corn tassel. You were what the wind was making with illuminated leaves.

Your breast is enough for my heart, and my wings for you freedom. What was sleeping above your soul will rise out of my mouth to heaven.

You gather things to you like an old road. You are peopled with echoes and nostalgic voices.

Between the lips and the voice something goes dying. Something with the wings of a bird, something of anguish and oblivion.

Every day you play with the light of the universe.

I go so far as to think that you own the universe. I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud and your form and colour are the way I love them. You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips and in your life my infinite dreams live.

My soul wandered, happy, sad, unending. Thinking, burying lamps in the deep solitude. Who are you, who are you?

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet. Far away the sea sounds and resounds. This is a port. Here I love you.

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

In you the wars and the flights accumulated. From you the wings of the song bird rose. You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like times. In you everything sank!