"I am not one who was born in the custody of wisdom. I am one who is fond of olden times and intense in quest of the sacred knowing of the ancients." Gustave Courbet

02 October 2013

Dreams.


XXI

If only love would spread its savor through me, 
not to go one moment more without spring!
What I sold into sorrow was only my hands,
dearest: now leave me with your kisses.

Shut out the mouth's light with your fragrance;
close all the doors with your hair.
Only do not forget, if I wake up crying it's only because in my dream I'm a lost child hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands, for your caresses like the wheat, the flashing rapture of shadow and energy.

O my dearest, nothing but shadow there where you walk with me through your dream: you tell me when the light returns.

Pablo Neruda

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