FOR MY HEART
for your freedom with my wings.
Out of my mouth will come up in the sky
What was dormant on your soul.
It’s in you the illusion each day.
You like the dew on petals.
Excavations on the horizon with your absence.
Eternally fleeing as the wave.
I said that in wind cantavi
as the pines like trees and masters of ships.
As those are tall and taciturn.
And suddenly you rattristi, as a journey.
Comfortable as an old road.
You populate echoes and nostalgic items.
I woke up and sometimes they migrate and flee
the birds slept in your soul.
(Pablo Neruda)