poetry …

I hunt for a sign of you in all the others, In the rapid undulant river of women,

Braids, shyly sinking eyes, Light step that slices, sailing through the foam.

Suddenly I think I can make out your nails, Oblong, quick, nieces of a cherry:

Then it’s your hair that passes by, and I think I see your image, a bonfire, burning in the water.

I searched, but no one else had your rhythms, Your light, the shady day you brought from the forest; Nobody had your tiny ears.

You are whole, exact, and everything you are is one,

And so I go along, with you I float along, loving

A wide Mississippi toward a feminine sea.

  • Pablo Neruda


studio:  Tilt Studios

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