I remember you as you were
in the last a u t u m n .
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of the t w i l i g h t fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your s o u l .
Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice,
that was slow and at p e a c e .
Bonfire of a w e in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.
I feel your eyes traveling,
and the autumn is far off:
Grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house
Towards which my deep l o n g i n g s migrated
and my kisses fell, happy as embers.
Sky from a ship.
Field from the hills:
Your m e m o r y is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!
Beyond your eyes, farther on,
the evenings were blazing.
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.
- Pablo Neruda
(photo courtesy of yuma1983)