Monday, May 28, 2007

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees

[...]
My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

from Every Day You Play, by Pablo Neruda

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