In my sky at twilight .
In my sky at t w i l i g h t
you are like a cloud
and your form and colour
are the way I l o v e them.
You are mine, m i n e ,
woman with sweet lips
and in your life my i n f i n i t e dreams live.
The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
the sour wine is s w e e t e r on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!
You are mine, m i n e ,
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 p l u n d e r stills your nocturnal regard
as though it were water.
You are t a k e n
in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My s o u l is born
on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning
the land of d r e a m s begin.
- Pablo Neruda
