My heart is made just for your bosom

For your freedom my wings are enough

That which had been asleep on your soul

Will rejoin the heavens through my mouth

Within you the illusion of each day exits

You arrive like the dew upon petals

Undermine the horizon with your absence

In fugue like the wave for keeps

I told what you sang with the wind

Like the pines and like the masts did

Like them you are tall and taciturnly

And you sadden quickly as would a journey

Comforting like an old route

Echoes and nostalgic voices populate you all

I am awake, and on occasions migrate

And scare away the birds sleeping in your soul


Poema 12, Pablo Neruda.