In my sky, at twilight

In my sky, at twilight, you are like a cloud

and your form and color are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine woman with sweet lips
and in your life, my infinite dreams live.
      The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh, reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!
      You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon’s
wind and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.
      You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.❞
— Pablo Neruda

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.